Odi et Amo: The Ebon Canvas
by XxxChansalarxxX
Summary: Even after a year, Taylor Lupin can hardly believe that she is a witch. Along with friends, she returns as a second year student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. When Lily Evans begins acting strangely, Taylor must seek the expertise a brilliant new professor and join ranks with the mischievous Marauders in order to save her best friend.
1. Chapter 1: Because of a Boggart

Disclaimer/Author's Note: This story is a fully edited and refurbished version of my old FanFiction, _Seriously Sirius_. I am taking a great deal of time to put more details into the plot and edit the obnoxious grammar mistakes. This installment will focus on the Marauder's second year at Hogwarts, but as a brief introductory I have tried to add a recap in the first chapter. If you haven't read the first,and like to do so, copy the link: s/9385128/1/Odi-et-Amo-The-Necromancer-s-Psychomanteum or check out my home profile). As a disclaimer, I would like to state: I do not own the Harry Potter series, and I will never match up to J.K. Rowling's originality. With that, I have taken a degree of creative license with the characters and the original storyline (as some die-hard fans may notice). While much remains true to the series, there will be several purposeful changes. Thank you for your support and please no flames.

Chapter One:

Droplets of vermillion red paint sprinkled downward onto the shagged carpet. The dollops glittered internally with mysterious movement. Shapes melded between scarlet and gold, struggling to maintain their identity.

"Watch the brush. Remus, you're getting paint all over my floor."

Taylor's brother glanced at the mess apologetically. The siblings sat cross-legged on the ground amidst craft supplies. Aluminum paint cans, hog's hair brushes, and strips of poster board. On the nearby dresser laid the inspiration for Remus's recent artistic endeavor: the mandatory supply list from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for all second year students.

"Blast it. I really need to refine my artistic abilities." To illustrate his statement, Remus brandished the paintbrush through the air sending a vibrant spray of color across the room. Exasperated, Taylor pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Is a flashy Gryffindor banner even necessary?"

The young girl scrutinized the fresh stains on her bedroom floor. Growing up for years in a muggle orphanage had conditioned her to avoid sloppy crafts, especially permanent paints. Caning or endless hours of scrubbing were often the unpleasant after effects of creative splatter.

"I have school spirit! Besides, do we _need_ an excuse to use magical paint?" Excitedly, Remus held up his homemade pennant. Blotchy golden lions flashed in the crimson background.

The enthusiasm in his voice urged the smile back onto Taylor's face. Notwithstanding the momentary annoyances, her foster family had become an integral part of her life. Memory harbored images of her haggard biological father, but the Lupins dulled the occasional ache left by abandonment. Despite nearly six years of separation, Taylor stubbornly refused to surrender the promises of paternal reunion. Summer in the Lupin household, therefore, was both peaceful and revitalizing after the course of life's unsatisfactory events.

In the aftermath of the previous academic year, Taylor and Remus spent a majority of their afternoons visiting the library, lazing in the park under evergreens, or barricaded in the townhouse. The mere fact they were wizards, fresh from their first year at Hogwarts, still seemed like a fantasy projected from the many books the pair devoured. A relatively whimsical year of learning magic had twisted into a severely disconcerting muddle of adventure, leaving questions unanswered and suspicions heightened. Damien Greer, formerly the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, used the forbidden art of necromancy to locate the mysterious Faberge's egg, only to be devoured by hellhounds summoned by the elderly general store manager, Colby Katsinsky.

Taylor was expected to explain the story in various and, reluctantly, she obliged. In order to protect the innocent, she consistently censored her version of events. Fellow students, Sirius Black and Fionn Wilkes, also witnessed the happenings from similar perspectives, but it was Taylor who fell from the escape, accidentally stabbing their pursuer through the chest with her wand. Equally, it was the first year Slytherin who decoded the whereabouts of Fabergé's egg by means of a dream; though these experiences were shared with the headmaster Albus Dumbledore and his advocates only. Taylor chose to remain mute on the topic and in many conversations sheltered the truth from full exposure.

The warm summer air suppressed any desire for further adventure. Subterranean tunnels, corpses, and nightmares were rarely revisited. Surprisingly, though, Taylor missed the school and often reminisced with Remus about Quidditch matches and magically filled banquets. In good taste, the pair speculated about the possibilities of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. Less morbidly, they missed the castle grounds, classes, and more importantly their friends.

Walking by the open doorway, Lyall Lupin fixed his yellow tie and peered inside.

"Do be careful with the magical paint Remus. Now, some see your mother and me out, will you?"

Taylor wrestled the paintbrush away from Remus playfully. She hurried out after the patriarch chased by the wrathful artist. Their mother, Hope, dusted off the squared shoulders of her husband tenderly.

"A reservation for dinner at Restaurant Boulestin. I feel so honored." Hope kissed the blushing man on the cheek.

Taylor closed her eyes to picture the scene. _Modern Parisian in decoration, luxurious with plush wine colored carpets and curtains patterned in yellow brocade. Eventually, the couple would digest over conversation in the lounge portion, decorated by a square of hanging silk balloon lights. A prominent bottle of 1903 liqueur brandy de la maison shared between them, a graceful reminder of their younger years together. A marvelous celebration for an anniversary—_ Lyall's voice broke through her imagination.

"You deserve nothing less than perfection tonight, my dear." The man looked at her with adoration. "Since the first time I met you—"

Intrigued, Taylor piped up. "How did you two meet?" Remus scoffed, hands deeply pressed into his pockets. Their son was more excited for a night without his parents, than her was listening to tender romance.

"Heavens! At the time, I was living in Wales and working for an insurance company. After a particularly stressful day at the office, all I wanted to do was enjoy some fresh air." Hope hovered near the front door, barring Lyall from exiting in embarrassment. "There was a reserve nearby, so I took to walking. Somewhere down the trail, I got turned around. Then, without cause this rugged vagabond burst from the underbrush toward me." She clutched her heart for effect, but smiled sheepishly. "I had never been so frightened in all my life. Frozen like a doe in headlights! Of course, this is where your father showed up to save the day."

"I had been conducting an expedition in the area. My objective was to document and catalog the indigenous Non-Human Spirituous Apparitions of Wales. Some reports had led me to believe that a particularly nasty boggart resided in the Long Wood Reserve."

"Boggart?" Taylor interjected with interest. Remus, who had evidently heard the tale innumerable times, nudged his sister in the ribs. A failed attempt to quell the curiosity.

A gleam of fascination twinkled in Lyall's eyes. Adventures and expeditions from the past shimmered in the shadow of his yesteryears. "Essentially, a boggart is a shape-shifting, non-being that takes on the form of its viewer's worst fear."

Taylor tried with difficultly to imagine a boggart. _An authentic boogeyman. While the other children were busy fearing the tales of Old Bloody-Bones who lived in the cupboard under the stairs, I was preoccupied with the works of Robert Louis Stevenson. Supposedly, Daniel Babio peeped through a crack for a glimpse of the dreadful, crouching creature. Before settling into bed, he generously supplied us the gruesome details: Blood running down his face, the orphanage's boogeyman perched upon a pile of raw bones which belonged to children who told lies or cursed. There was never any proof though, monsters aren't—_

Instantly, she regretted the vibrancy of her imagination. The leathery humanoid corpse, faceless except for a neatly pursed mouth reclined upon a living armchair. Broken insectival wings slumped asymmetrically, down to the floor. Hope continued the story to break the monotony of Lyall's work life and distract her children from boogeymen.

"Your father heard my screams and rushed to my aid like a white knight."

Her husband blushed. "I turned the man chasing her into a field mushroom with a wave of my wand. Simple defense really. I escorted her home, wishing to ensure her safety. It took me months to finally confess that the boggart had never posed any real danger."

"You are still my hero. It was a risk for you to expose your magic to help a frightened muggle woman, but you did so anyway." Hope smiled at him.

"And I would repeat that decision infinitely over." In the background, Remus swallowed imaginary vomit, as his parents cooed at one another lovingly. Even Taylor, who once indulged in a saucy romance novel, began to feel slightly uncomfortable as a bystander. The two children ushered the couple through the door and to their automobile. The lovebirds flew from the nest, leaving the chicks to wander aimlessly in the yard for a moment, before returning to the safety of the living room. Ever since Remus was attacked by a lycanthrope, Lyall and Hope rarely left the siblings alone for extended periods of time. His condition was, in some cases, unpredictable. A week prior, Remus had suffered through his monthly transformation, but recovered speedily in time for the couple's anniversary. They took advantage of the opportunity with hesitation, after gentle coaxing from their wards.

Without direction, Taylor circled the room several times. _Alone and unsupervised, yet nothing worth doing._ She considered writing to her friends. Loyal to their promises, her companions had scribed regularly with tidbits about their lives and desires about the upcoming year. The most recent letter from Fionn, which she practically memorized, hummed in her mind, waiting for reply.

_Taylor,_

_Summer still seems to be progressing at a terribly slow pace. I have recently adopted some curious herbs and magical plants, with the hope of investing the remaining free-time into something productive. Compared to Hogwarts, my house feels like a bastille. Hopefully, you are faring better. _

_Patiently awaiting further correspondence,_

_Wilkes_

Despite his occasional cold and calculated disposition, Fionn Wilkes was one of Taylor's best friends from Hogwarts. Consequently, he was the only companion Taylor had from Slytherin. Though their differences often landed them in heated arguments, there was little one would not do for the other. Even when Taylor discovered Fionn had practiced necromancy with Professor Greer, she kept the knowledge quiet from the headmaster. While Fionn and Taylor developed their friendship in unconventional ways, she was not as congenial with other Slytherins. The other students from her house usually formed elite fraternal cliques forged in pureblood. Taylor was not, however, socially stunted by the internal alienation.

Almost daily, she received letters by muggle post from the quick-witted, fiery Gryffindor Lily Evans. Despite the historical animosity between their houses, the pair were inseparable. They partnered in classes, held private study sessions, and explored the outer perimeters of the castle together. Lily too had written to Taylor and waited patiently for response.

_Dear Taylor,_

_My day instantly becomes wonderful, whenever I see your letter in the mail! Having a pen pal is thrilling business really. I met up with Severus just the other day. He was ever so apologetic about the way he has been acting. You can expect to see us three to cause plenty of trouble together next semester. Nothing intense though. We wouldn't want reputations, like certain other unmentionables. Please write soon! Miss you._

_Your friend,_

_Lily _

Though she had little to say, Taylor settled on forwarding polite replies. "I need to write back to Lily and Fionn. If you need me, I'll be upstairs—"

"Shoot. That reminds me. There is a letter in the kitchen for you. Sorry, I meant to tell you earlier. I forget about the muggle post most days." As if to lighten the mood, Remus stretched his legs across the couch and scratched his chin.

Taylor folded her arms in protest. "Thanks. You're something helpful."

"You're welcome." Remus grinned cheerfully. She left her brother and moved into the kitchen. Robert F. Scott stared unblinkingly up from the stamp on Lily's letter. The British polar explorer frozen in time by the Royal Mail. Taylor reached for the drawer concealing the letter opener, when a rustle near the window startled her. _A boggart?!_

An owl fluttered against the windowpane. _An owl, blimey—nearly gave me a heart attack._ Against the nocturnal backdrop, the jet-black bird was difficult to see; only the bird's florescent yellow eyes were discernable. Flipping the latch open, Taylor opened the window and allowed the owl to drop a letter attached to a small, brown papered parcel on the sill. After a proud coo, the bird departed.

"Oi, there's a package for you! From James— what's Potter sending you? Now I'm nervous." Taylor shook the package lightly, an ear cocked for malevolent reverberations. "I should withhold this for further inspection." She entered the living room to deliver the bundle.

"Who are you, the new Postmaster General?" Remus scoffed and held out his hands expectantly.

"At least I let you know when your mail arrives."

"Clever. Toss over the parcel." Obliging her brother's request, Taylor pitched the small package toward his open palms. Once situated, Remus pulled at the strings. The knots binding the letter to the bundle loosened, permitting to the contents within to roll onto the couch. A wrinkled, mauve fig settled next to an astounded Remus. "James's promised to send me a shrivelfig from his mother's garden—I'm actually surprised he remembered. Not quite Abyssinian, but fascinating nonetheless. After writing the summer essay about it, I expected something grander." The faint odor of lavender wafted charmingly from the ripe fruit.

James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and her brother were inseparable. All from Gryffindor, the group paraded around the school scouting for ways to cause mischief. Sirius and James were ringleaders of misconduct, stirring up a circus of chaos for teachers and Slytherins alike. Their pompous attitudes and imposing presences annoyed Taylor, but circumstance allowed an alliance to form between them. A black sheep in her Slytherin house, Taylor carefully treaded the finer lines of blood traitor.

A smile twitched across Taylor's face as she attended to the neatly adorned letter on the kitchen counter. Soundlessly, she left Remus in the sitting room, alone to inspect the shrivelfig and the attached notelet in privacy. Upon entrance into her room, the dry splotches of bewitched paint began to flicker in a hospitable frenzy. On the comfort of her mattress, Taylor delved into the envelope:

_Taylor,_

_My supply list came in! I'll be in Diagon Alley on the twentieth. If you happen to be there, meet Severus and I outside Sugarplum's Sweet Shop. Noon. I cannot wait to catch up in person._

_Your friend, _

_Lily_

Excitement, at the thought of reunion, pooled in Taylor's abdomen, stirring the eagerness and anticipation for the forthcoming academic year. Patiently waiting for owls to carry the correspondence had become cumbersome, an inconvenience which was easily averted when the students returned to Hogwarts. Conversations were only a stair climb away or tabletops apart. Secretly, she even desired the occasional heated interaction with Gryffindors like James Potter or Sirius Black. With a smile, Taylor folded Lily's letter and tucked it neatly into her tattered nightstand edition of _A History of Magic_.


	2. Chapter 2: Helena Lovecraft

Chapter Two

A faint rain showered persistently down upon the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. Despite the weather, hundreds of wizarding consumers flooded the strip. They shielded themselves with enchanted color-changing umbrellas and circumnavigated broad puddles, filled with determination to complete their afternoon tasks. Students and parents bustled between stores, collecting textbooks, cauldrons, and potions' ingredients. Few visitors, however, were brave enough to traverse the steaming side-streets, like Knockturn Alley.

A majority of shops lining the crooked backstreet were wholly devoted to the Dark Arts. The storefront windows were all tinted, concealing the diversity of the mystical treasures within. An uninvited murder of crows, perched eagerly on the crumbling chimneys above, waiting patiently for the next meal. Nestled in the center of the alley, between Moribund's Mortuary and Deceased Beasts Supply, coiled the dignified Spiny Serpent Lounge. Long, violet stained window panels checkered the ancient building. Only the magical community's uppermost elite were admitted through the stately, wooden front door.

Inside, protected from the unexpected summer downpour, two estranged brothers settled into their family's private suite. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was one of the largest, oldest and wealthiest pureblooded wizarding families in Britain, though only direct descendants held access to the exclusive comforts of the Spiny Serpent. Unsupervised, the older sibling, Regulus, exercised his birth right to enjoy the hedonistic revelries; the younger of the pair, however, rejected the familial frivolities and yearned to leave the suite's suffocating confines.

Settled near the second story window, Regulus squinted through the glass at a pair of soggy peddlers disputing territorial boundaries. Wispy dark hair shadowed his hauntingly grey eyes and high cheek bones.

"You'd think the wizarding businesses would shield their guests with a Weather-Modifying Charm. Isn't there any regard for the comfort of the consumer?"

"Do you intentionally try to sound like mother?" Trying to stifle a yawn, Sirius entertained himself by plucking a head off a soft fuchsia Snake Mouth Orchid. Unenthusiastically, the young boy lounged sideways on the establishment's antique bergère; he draped his legs across the chair's arm. Feathered black hair fell into his silver gray eyes, which emptied into unpredictable depths. "A little rain never killed anyone. It isn't a monsoon."

"Clever Sirius, whatever would I do without your input?" Effortlessly, Regulus spared a fleeting glance toward his brother before retrieving a steaming cup of tea from an end table. Gold liquid lapped against shores of porcelain. Subtle hints of chestnut combined with the overpowering aroma of honeysuckle wafted generously through the air. "Don't waste the tea. The few grams alone cost us 40 galleons."

Extravagant taste never appealed to Sirius. He shook his head in disgust. "I suspect you used all of my school money to pay for this then?"

"Nothing gets passed you." Regulus sat down on the plush loveseat and closed his eyes. He could not hold back the smirk on his face. "Mother cannot possibly trust you to hold onto your own money."

"How am I supposed to buy my books now?" Sirius growled. The boy turned from his original convenient position to have both feet on the floorboards.

Eyes still closed in relaxation, Regulus shrugged. "You have that street rat mentality, maybe some poverty will suit your self-righteous struggle."

Anger simmered in Sirius's stomach. Without pause, he grabbed the small cup and poured the scalding contents into Regulus's lap. Reflexively, the victim thrashed from his seat with a scream of surprise. Before he could fully recover, however, Sirius grabbed his pea coat and escaped into the rainfall. Pneumonia was far less risky than confronting a wrathful brother with second degree burns on the groin. Careful to avoid eye contact with the alley's impoverished population, Sirius wandered towards the safety of Diagon Alley.

Internally, he debated on whether or not to return to Grimmauld Place that evening. Without money his choice of renting a room at the Leaky Cauldron Pub and Inn was impractical. Given his age, the proprietor would not even consider bartering a stay in exchange for free labor. Lost in preparation, Sirius knocked shoulders with a stranger heading the opposite direction. A grumble was the only apology the Gryffindor boy was willing to offer. The recipient, seemingly unperturbed by the contact, remained silent and continued passed. Sirius glanced behind him, long enough to make out the familiar crop of copper hair belonging to Fionn Wilkes. An older gentleman, who accompanied the second-year Slytherin, turned momentarily to scrutinize the unattended vagrant child. Reluctant to draw attention to himself, Sirius picked up the pace and scrambled into Diagon Alley.

"Father and son bonding over the Dark Arts? Cute. If only I had a family like that." Sirius muttered sarcastically to no one in particular.

Keeping to his original schedule, Sirius retired to the Leaky Cauldron for his eleven-thirty appointment. Once inside, the boy claimed a shadowy corner table with a clear view of the front door. He was early, but he did not mind the company of drunken strangers. Their inebriated stupors lulled Sirius into a warm, satisfaction— Regulus would brood uselessly over spilt tea, while he enjoyed his ephemeral freedom. His jacket on the back of the chair was nearly dry by the time James Potter entered the wizarding establishment. Camouflaged by an impervious, hooded trench coat, Sirius barely recognized his friend's arrival.

"Where have you been mate? For a moment, I thought you were going to stand me up." Sirius stood to greet James, who threw his hands up in defense.

"Have a little faith, would you? I just had some trouble getting away from my mum." He smiled, pulled a chair from the table, and straddled it nonchalantly. "She wanted to be sure we had everything on the supply list before I met up with friends. We had some issues with the book list."

A thunder of excitement jolted Sirius into a laugh. Months of physical solitude were melting away. Hogwarts was closer than it was just moments ago.

"I'd ask to trade families, but that wouldn't be fair to you."

James noted the strain in his friend's tone. "Not even if I were deaf and blind. Everything alright?"

"Perfectly ace." Unconvinced, James leaned forward against the back of the chair. "I may have— intentionally— drenched Regulus with pricey hot tea. No regrets though. Hearing him squeal was worth it."

"Bloody hell, mate. Living the troublemaker's dream. But really? You had to go and piss off the guy who is one card short of a full deck. He will return the favor while you're sleeping." James shook his head in exasperation. "This is an easy fix. You can stay with me."

Asking for help had not occurred to Sirius. Relying on others was not part of his nature. Before he could protest, James threw a barricade up with his hands.

"I insist. It's only a week. We have plenty of room and I can even help you collect your stuff from your home. We can get out of public view."

"My God! You're ashamed of our relationship. Want to hide me away from the world?" Sirius clasped his chest dramatically in faux hysterics.

"We need privacy to charm the map, you twit." James smirked. "You did bring it?"

Sirius grinned devilishly.

* * *

Weighed down with sodden cloaks and tightly wrapped textbooks, Taylor and Remus zigzagged between the dampened customers of Diagon Alley. A wild goose chase turned into a snipe hunt. Their standard second year book list contained a series of peculiar titles, including _The Pnakotic Manuscripts_, _The Dhol Chants_, and _Al Azif_. The clerks from Flourish and Blotts retained no record of the works in question, though assured the students the matter would be resolved before the start-of-term.

Unable to complete their scavenger hunt, the siblings meandered their way toward the white marbled steps of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The building towered ominously over the neighboring shops and businesses. Beyond the impenetrable walls resided the precious valuables of wizards and witches across the European continent. In order to gain a clearer perspective of the street, Taylor climbed the whitewashed stairs.

"Wasn't Sugarplum's right next to Gringotts? Do you see it anywhere?" Taylor adjusted the hood of her rain jacket, allowing the beads of precipitation to roll off. She scanned the bustling street in hopes of glimpsing a recognizable face or storefront. The rain distorted all familiarity.

"No, though I expected we'd run into this sort of confusion." Remus replied. Rain ricocheted off his water resistant, crimson and gold umbrella.

Taylor tiptoed eagerly above the heads of passersby, causing the coins she had left to jingle in her pocket. "You brought a map then?"

"In retrospect, that would have been wise." Remus shook his head and chuckled. "We should ask for directions."

_Directions. If we keep walking, we may end up where we were headed. Or… _Taking a deep breath, Taylor chose to heed her brother's advice. Nearby, a young adult witch and goblin stood sheltered beneath the bank's grandiose frontal eave. _Safe bet. _

"Excuse me." Taylor interrupted. In unison, the witch and goblin looked up. "Would you happen to know where Sugarplum's Sweets Shop is?"

The witch's cinnamon brown eyes lingered for a moment before turning to the stout goblin at her side. Quietly, she motioned to the children and uttered a series of unintelligible words. Wavy, black hair tussled about her shoulders with the gesture. The goblin shook his head and pointed down the bustling street, rasping a jumble of distinctly inhuman language.

"Mr. Bogrod is not entirely sure, though he believes that your shop may be down this way. If you don't mind, I'll be heading that way myself. Perhaps a set of extra eyes can help you find your shop and make up for my rough Gobbledegook." The witch explained sweetly. Her speech was delicately curved with an unmistakable accent: American English. The woman returned her attention back to the goblin, "Thank you for delivering it all the way. I can't express how truly helpful everyone has been since I arrived."

The goblin nodded cordially and, without any additional comments, returned to the inner sanctums of Gringotts. Taylor studied the foreigner curiously from her peripherals as they set out in search for their rendezvous point.

"Gobbledegook?" Taylor was sure she had misheard the woman, between the splash and whirling winds.

"The native language of the goblins." She clarified.

"Oh. Well, thank you for your help. We appreciate this." Taylor admitted. Finding Lily suddenly became less urgent in the presence of the intriguing, new arrival. The witch withdrew her wand, pointed it toward the sky and mumbled_ Conopaeum. _An invisible canopy protected the travelers from the summer shower as they traverse the puddle-flooded alley.

"No problem at all. Helena Lovecraft by the way. It's nice to meet the both of you." She returned her wand to a pocket within her lilac cloak.

"I'm Remus Lupin and this is my sister, Taylor. Are you visiting London for business?" Remus pulled his useless umbrella closed. Instead, he used it to mindlessly tap the cobblestones beneath their passing feet.

"Indeed. I've taken up a vacant position at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry." Taylor tripped over her own curiosity and although she managed to keep in step, she slowed her pace to match their guest's. "I expect the two of you are students?"

"We are! Second years—" Remus began.

"Are you filling in as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Taylor asked intrigued. Remus rolled his eyes at his sister's conversational etiquette.

"Yes." Lovecraft laughed in amusement, their eagerness encouraged her into explanation. "It's unfortunate about what happened to Professor Greer. I heard he was an intelligent professor and I am sure he prepared you all well for the upcoming year."

_Professor Greer, frightening, yet brilliant— Taught us some things I am not sure I was ready for. _Comparing the new professor to Greer forced Taylor to view the woman in a new way. She seemed so young, beautiful, and polite in contrast to the wild man who taught their first year defense lessons. When Taylor remained quiet, Remus proceeded to regain control of the discussion.

"We know the basics."

_Smokescreen spells, Lumos, ways to humiliate an opponent or scare thieves. Killing necromancers. I'd say we definitely learned the basics. _

"Though if you don't mind my asking, ma'am, the texts for your class aren't available in any of the bookstores. Where can we find them?" Remus noticed the sobering look on Taylor's face. A new defense teacher reconfirmed the violent events from the year before.

"I meant to let the school know. The texts aren't easily purchased, so I am having them imported. By our first class, we should have copies for everyone."

"Imported from where?" Remus inquired thoughtfully.

Lovecraft paused before responding. "Mostly from Lebanon." She pointed to a sign above them: Sugarplum's Sweets Shop. "It seems we've made it to your location. I look forward to the academic year and expect to see you two in the very near future."

Although Taylor and Remus both boiled with questions, they held back their enthusiasm. They bid her safe travels before slipping into the brightly lit sweets shop. The scent of spicy cardamom and honeyed walnuts drifted lazily throughout the air. Peering through the foggy storefront window was Lily Evans, bright faced and propped upon her toes. Beside her, Severus Snape groom his fingernails patiently.

Bypassing the trivialities of reunion, the red head instantly unleashed her rampant curiosity. "Who was that?"

"Professor Helena Lovecraft." Remus explained unable to hold in his gossip. "She's the new Defense teacher!"

Severus, whosegreasy black hair contrasted with his pale skin, peered around a steeple of shimmering lollipops to judge the departing woman. "She's young. What could she possibly offer?"

_I am sure she knows plenty more than you do. _Taylor felt compelled to point out, but chewed on her tongue instead. For much of their first year, Severus had abandoned his childhood friend Lily for his Slytherin housemates. Despite the absence, Lily still considered him a close friend. As much as Taylor tried, Severus usually refused to be affable.

Lily, Severus's polar opposite, beamed at the prospects of a new professor. "Well, anyone has to be nicer than Greer. What else do you know?"

"She's American. Her accent was obvious." Remus explained, though the professor was becoming an afterthought, replaced by the desire to sample the Chocolate Frogs and Floating Gobs of Fairy Floss.

"Brilliant. A young American woman. They're a brash and impractical bunch— what do Americans know about advanced defense anyways?" Severus snapped.

Taylor's upper lip twitched in annoyance. "Plenty, I'd gather, considering the Americans haven't been a British colony since 1783." Historical ignorance and bigotry, above all else, irritated the young Slytherin girl. In an effort to redirect her attention, Remus nudged his sister in the ribs playfully. With Remus's help, the candied wonderland coaxed Taylor away from a tempting argument with a narrow minded opponent.

"Nevertheless, I still think it will be great to have a foreign teacher. Refreshing even. She must have something special to offer, if Hogwarts brought her this far." Lily smiled encouragingly at Severus, who remained unconvinced.

"They are desperately trying to fill a cursed position." The Slytherin boy muttered under his breath.

"Poppycock." Lily dismissed her guest's negativity with a wave of the hand. "A single tragic affair doesn't elicit the makings of a curse. There will be plenty of time to evaluate our new professor during the year, but for now let's enjoy these last few days of summer." She grabbed Severus's arm and led him toward a line of Sacchariferous Whirling Pinwheels.

Rain gently drummed against the windowsill, relentless in its attempt to join the merriment.


	3. Chapter 3: The Safety Advisory Warning

Chapter Three

Hundreds of trainspotters and anoraks flocked to Kings Cross Station in London to personally witness the Golden Arrow's final journey to the coast. A decline in demand for rail travel between London and Paris forced the luxury Pullman service to reconsider its financial options. By the end of September, the Golden Arrow would become obsolete in favor of faster transportation. The luxury boat train, scheduled to depart for Dover, submitted gracefully to the numerous photographs taken by the metrophiles and ferroequinologists hovering about Platform 10.

Nearby, however, concealed from the eager crowd of nonmagical railfans, waited an even more unusual locomotive. The Hogwarts Express: A scarlet steam engine readied to depart for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. White smoke billowed above the heads of a lively crowd. Parents embraced their children and ushered them toward the boarding queues. Caged owls hooted at the unattended cats that ventured too close, inaudible complaints muted by the cacophony of farewells and impulsive shouting.

Taylor pushed her luggage cart down the platform followed closely by Remus and his parents. Once situated securely in line, their guardians wished them an enjoyable, albeit safe, academic term before returning to their townhouse.

"Isn't this great?" Taylor smiled and placed a hand on her brother's shoulder. "We actually get to start off the year on talking terms."

"That can easily be changed." Remus squinted at her intrusive hand, but laughed when she hurriedly removed it. "Blimey, Taylor, it was a joke. Did I look _that _convincing?"

"Yeah, you should consider—"

The witty reply retreated into her larynx, replaced by a yelp, as she was unexpectedly lifted off the ground by her waist. A pair of hands carefully brought Taylor down several centimeters from her original position. Provoked, the Slytherin rounded on the assailant fists raised, though rationalized the incident when she recognized the obnoxious, empty-headed boy beside her.

"Salazar! Remus! Fancy that, running into you two here." Sirius Black grinned.

"Truly miraculous." Taylor scoffed, although privately she was entertained by his boisterous appearance.

Remus nodded in agreement with his sister. "The only way this could possibly be more unusual, is if James or Peter appeared."

"Present!" As if on cue, James Potter rushed forward scraping his trunk along the ground. "Pete's at the end of the line though."

"Oi!" A disgruntled youth shouted at James from three groups back. "No line jumping! Get to the back of the queue!"

"Shut up, you!" James hollered back unperturbed. Without another glance, he returned to the conversation which involved him. "Will we all be sitting together?"

"Of course." Both Sirius and Remus responded synchronously. _Was James including me in that? I suppose it doesn't matter. I already have claim to a compartment with Lily… Wherever she might be._ Taylor chose not to respond to the open-ended question.

A sprint vaulted Sirius passed the first three steps of the Hogwarts Express car. He held out an inviting hand to help Taylor onto the train. "Need a boost?"

Taylor rolled her eyes at him and pressed passed. _Since when do you play the role of the gentleman? I won't be fooled for a second by that trick._

In defense, Sirius threw his palms into the air. "My mistake."

"Aren't you going to offer me a hand up?" James snorted mockingly.

For a moment, Sirius stared at him calculatedly. He reached out kindly to pull his friend up the narrow stairs. Delighted by the ease of boarding, James eagerly reached up, luggage heisted high, only to stumble backward when Sirius swiftly pulled the helping hand away at the last minute. The fleeing Gryffindor only caught the prelude to a torrent of vengeful curses, leaving Remus to comfort the fallen comrade.

Taking time to peer into each compartment, Taylor squeezed through the congested side corridor. Progress became a herculean feat. A dingy longhaired calico cat tripped her twice, sending her several paces backwards. Luggage avalanched from overloaded alcoves above, which forced the flow of students into a stationary bottleneck. After countless trials, she finally discovered Lily sitting by herself, typical indication of Severus's abandonment.

"Thanks for saving me a seat. Just about everywhere is packed." Taylor started to shove and heave her trunk into the storage cubicle, but before she could raise it above her head, Sirius slammed open the door causing her to drop the luggage.

"Blast it!"

James and Remus filed in after Sirius, who neglected to offer any further assistance to the independent Slytherin girl.

"Your company is becoming quite the biannual joy." Lily sniped sarcastically at the three unwelcomed boys.

Ruffled and slightly bruised, James sat down across from Lily and crossed his legs. "Evans, you can't expect to go around monopolizing empty cabins."

The rouge on Lily's pale face intensified with frustration. Although the boys were magnets for trouble, their bravery and humor was often good natured. That, above all else, irritated the red-haired girl the most. After Remus helped to tuck away her possessions, Taylor took the open seat beside Lily.

"Sorry. I didn't think they'd follow once I boarded the train." The young Slytherin whispered apologetically. Gaze locked squarely on James, Lily rolled the recreational muggle post in her hands distractedly.

"Don't be sorry, dear. It's not your fault. They're practically brainless lemmings."

Sirius took the seat next to James. "Lucky for us, there are no cliffs around."

Remus was the only person to offer a sympathy chuckle, before taking the available space beside his sister. As the train began to pull out of the station, a light rap on the door signaled the entrance of a scrawny, anxious Peter Pettigrew.

"Boy, am I lucky to find you guys. I thought I'd have to stand the whole way." The boy's pale blue eyes fixated on the seat beside Sirius. Without much choice, Peter hurriedly claimed the final seat across from Remus. Sirius edged away slightly when their feet touched accidently.

"It's good to have you back mate." James yawned, resting his head against the vibrating glass window.

Ignoring the boys became simple enough, when Lily offered to share the newspaper with Taylor. Together they scribbled through crosswords and unscrambled expressions. _ "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind." Four letters across. _ In quiet contemplation, Taylor ran her hand along the velvet plush seat, thoughts sifting like sands through the sieve of her mind_. _Hours into their journey had yielded no certain answer, and they young girl had barely noticed the darkened landscape speeding passed. _Love? An uncontrollable and constant affection for another person. A friend, a family member, a stranger even. Hate? The passionate, encompassing, dislike for someone. Gaius Valerius Catullus, the Roman poet, would characterize those emotions as the oldest— _

An unexpected jerk lurched the six students violently forward. Their bodies and limbs collided, resulting in several awkward entanglements. Lily side-saddled James, who cradled the back of his head in pain. Without time to brace herself, Taylor careened toward Sirius: her chin to his eye socket. Unfortunately for Peter, Remus turbulently nosedived into the boy's unprotected groin.

"Bloody hell." Sirius groaned. He lifted a delicate hand to his bruising left eye. "What the fuck was that about?"

Abhorred and slightly nauseated, Remus scrambled back into his seat. "The train stopped."

"Without warning? Is that normal?" Taylor jumped off Sirius quickly, though paused to inspect his condition. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy." Sirius snorted. "You're not very good at impromptu landings." _You could have ended up with a wand through your chest. Consider yourself lucky._

The young Slytherin pinched her lips together tightly and chewed on the sarcastic responses tickling her tongue. Dazed, Lily scooted off James's lap and to the compartment floor. Concerned for her friend, Taylor kneeled down and brushed stray hair away from Lily's glistening green eyes.

Crisp silhouettes of the towering pine outside shadowed the train from the early rays of the quarter moon. The compartment lights fizzled into the darkness of night. Father Time slipped onto the locomotive, slowing down seconds to an insufferable pace. Inability lulled the students into a uniform silence. After nearly an hour, a static crackle reverberated through the air and an unfamiliar voice echoed through the compartments.

"This is an important Safety Advisory Warning. An elite unit of highly-trained, specialist officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are currently investigating the premises. Remain in your designated compartments until the search is complete." The static crackle heightened in volume, then vanished.

James peered out the window at the forest. "This is much more exciting than I originally imagined. Ministry officials are searching the express!"

The rest of the group was less enthusiastic. Lily and Taylor exchanged worried glances, while Remus fiddled anxiously through his pockets for his wand. Peter, especially, shifted nervously from one position to another.

"It's a hoax." Sirius tried to wave the apprehension in the air away. "Someone probably called in a rumor. Why would anyone target a train full of kids when there are governments to collapse?"

"As children, we are essentially defenseless. Among us are the future generations of law enforcers and government to get in their way. Terrorizing kids is an ingenious tactical move on. " Remus posed cynically.

Sirius folded his arms. "Doubt it. This is nothing serious."

Whispers dimmed back into an uncomfortable silence, until a shout from within echoed across the aluminum interior of the train cars. A thundering stampede of officers filed passed the compartment. The door nearly jumped the track as it slid open. An aggravating luminescence momentarily blinded their vision.

Between blurs and shadows, the figure of a young man emerged. Disheveled blond hair dusted his shoulders. Comparatively, the goatee on his face was stylishly trimmed and neatly groomed.

Instantly, Taylor recognized the gentleman as Virgil Park; a fiery fledging and confidant of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Virgil was responsible for retrieving Fabergé's egg from Poland and, subsequently, hiding it from those who would use it to awaken a bloodthirsty beast with a taste for nonmagical flesh. Despite Taylor's contribution in finding the egg, Virgil refused to trust her intentions. In a private confrontation, he had even claimed that she was working for the rising Dark Lord. His accusations, however absurd, immensely irritated Taylor. _God, let this be brief. Don't let him recognize me._

Virgil took a step inside and carefully surveyed the compartment. His wild brown eyes, which could have belonged to a bird of prey, scouted for inconsistencies. Upon noticing Taylor, the lines on his already stern face deepened.

_Bright side. At least I have a memorable face. _Her fingers flinched for the wand at her side, as Virgil raised his wand toward the ceiling.

"_Deprendo_."

A radiating violet aurora fanned out from his wand into several directions. Even after he dropped his instrument, the cabin remained illuminated with a soft lavender glow. Satisfied with the search, Virgil took a step back toward the hall and placed his hand on the door.

"Keep this compartment locked until further instruction." The door slid closed and with a harsh click the door locked. The students exchanged puzzled shoulder shrugs and cautious glances toward the door. _What or who were they looking for? _Another static crackle in the air signaled a final announcement.

"This concludes the Safety Advisory Warning. The investigation of the premises is now complete. Your journey will resume momentarily." The transmission ended and the train jerked back into a sudden motion. The lights flickered on, scorching the travelers' relaxed pupils.

* * *

Despite the delay on the tracks, the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade station upon schedule. There was an immense scramble to get outside into the fresh, evening air. The temperature had plummeted to artic degrees and the wind howled disconcertingly between the adjacent wooden platform structures. Terrified first years were shepherded away and out of sight from the mob of older students, in order to complete the traditional journey across the lake.

With reserved acceptance, Lily and Taylor followed the confident group of Gryffindor boys beyond the Hogsmeade station. Their feet slushed onto an unpaved road, caking the soles of their shoes with moist clay. Hundreds of stagecoaches conveniently awaited to deliver the remaining passengers. As Taylor approached a nearby carriage, a twinge of apprehension caused her to pause.

"Come on Taylor, what are you waiting for?" Remus goaded merrily. Clouded, motionless orbs stared blankly from reptilian, horse skulls. Each coach was pulled by a skeletal steed with reptilian wide, leathery bat wings.

Abnormally, even Sirius stood with hesitant precaution, while the others boarded the small buggy. The two confounded students shared a look of dismay with one another, but pressed when coaxed by their companions. They clambered inside and pulled the thin, door shut. Settled in comfortably, the stagecoach systematically joined the procession bound for the castle grounds. As the carriage picked up speed on the long sloping drive, the excitement of beginning the next phase of magical study revisited Taylor. Content in his seat, Sirius remained far from the window nursing his tender eye socket, while James and Peter watched the approaching turrets and towers grow taller. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt and the travelling party exited the coach to complete their pilgrimage.

The group melded into the swarming crowd and continued up the marbled steps, through the large oak doors, and into the cavernous Entrance Hall. From the Entrance Hall, they roamed freely into the expansive Great Hall, where the enchanted ceiling wondrously matched the celestial sky outside. A sea of pointed black hats filled into the empty spaces; each of the four long house tables were lined with excited students, their faces glimmering under the phosphorescence of a thousand floating candles.

From across the bustling hall, Taylor spotted her elusive friend, Fionn Wilkes, settled at the end of the Slytherin table. The copper haired boy sat alone, watching the waves of eager students ebb and flow around him. Apathy darkened his face, a mundane world reflected in grey blue eyes. Noticeably, the other emerald and silver clad pupils distanced themselves from his company. _Though, I wonder if it was his choice or theirs. _Tapping a farewell upon Lily's shoulder, Taylor broke away from the herd. Fionn's mood lightened marginally, when he noticed his friend's brisk approach. In a chivalrous fashion, he rose from his seat to welcome her arrival.

"It's good to see you." Fionn offered the bench to her. Although close, their friendship never warranted unnecessary touch, hugs and affection were simply taboo.

"Likewise." Taylor settled into her seat, allowing Fionn to return to his original position. After a few minutes of shared silence, she continued to pursue conversation. "Did you have a good summer?"

The Slytherin boy stared up at the staff table, his hands folded in uncomfortable consideration. He did not answer. Taylor had forgotten the conversational difficulties they often encountered last year; an obstacle which seeded erroneous doubts regarding Fionn's intentions. Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard with a shock of white hair, carried a three-legged stool to the front of the room in preparation for the sorting. Allowing her first attempt to dissolve in the air, Taylor tried again.

"So any news about what happened on the train?"

Whether or not he realized his previous detachment or simply found the topic genuinely interesting was unclear, but Fionn turned back toward Taylor to address her query.

"Surely you heard the rumors?" Taylor shook her head, prompting the boy to continue. "Supposedly, the Ministry received an anonymous tip claiming a group of radicals were going to attack the Hogwarts Express. The train was strictly guarded at the platform, but from what I understand, the Aurors detected two unidentified wizards on the train. That was the reason for the stop and search. How a pair of unknown wizards boarded an impervious moving train in the first place is beyond anyone's best guess."

"And the pair escaped before they could be taken into custody." A bronzy haired third year interrupted.

Balthasar Mulciber sat across from both Fionn and Taylor, his hazel eyes locked on the Slytherin girl. Ophidian by nature, Mulciber exuded a sadistic, often misogynistic, sense of humor. Unlike many of his cohorts, he knew nothing of conscience or remorse. Unnerved by the company Taylor clenched her fists beneath the table.

"Indeed. Those are the rumors, as I have heard them." Fionn straightened his posture and looked back toward the congregation of professors at the front of the hall.

Mulciber adjusted his tie. "Pleasure to see you again, Taylor. Are you still a mud wallower?"

Glowing hot coals of anger smoldered in Taylor's abdomen. Every breath, oxygenated the burning rage inside. Despite the urge, she chewed on her tongue to remain silent. Fionn's foot nudged Taylor's, though when she looked to him for an answer, he remained distracted with his distant observations. After a moment of consideration, she deemed it an accident.

"There you are!" A dark strawberry-blonde hurriedly claimed the seat at Mulciber's left. "What a mess of foot traffic. I nearly lost you in the crowds."

Creusa Greengrass, one of Taylor's bunkmates, was never far from Mulciber's beckoned call. Her pacific blue eyes glanced over Fionn and Taylor momentarily, before casting full attention back toward the boy beside her. Without permission, she ran her index finger down his pale cheek. Annoyed by the affection, Mulciber swatted away the playful touch. Taylor's stomach churned with disgust. _I can't imagine why anyone would want to touch him._

"You know, I imagine the train ride would have been more exciting if a few mudbloods had dropped dead. Maybe we would have gotten a few more days of vacation." Mulciber commented with a crooked smile. Even Fionn, shocked to overhear the cold-blooded comment, shifted uncomfortably back into the tension.

"Now, Mulciber, is it necessary to—" Fionn began, but Taylor slammed her hands on the table.

Cheeks flushed scarlet at the boy's vicious goading, she growled warningly. "Keep your sick opinions to yourself."

"I will take that as a yes then? You're still a scum sucking pikey." Mulciber leaned in by placing his elbows on the table. Taylor reached into her robes and clutched her wand steadily. _I will blast you to pieces if I have to. _Before she could pull out her weapon, Fionn stood up and put a cautionary hand on her shoulder.

"You need to sit somewhere else, Mulciber." Fionn stated flatly. The third year Slytherin, however, ignored the command. As he opened his mouth, Creusa stood up next to him and tugged on his shoulder.

"Don't be a kill joy Balthasar. We've only just arrived. Challenge Taylor's morality another night, would you?" Unyieldingly, Mulciber and Taylor held eye contact. _One more word. Give me a reason to have detention on the first day._

Mulciber tapped the table in thought, but suddenly jumped to his feet. "I'll see you around Wilkes. Enjoy the feast, Taylor." Without another word, he walked away with an arm around Creusa's shoulders. Body shaking with rage, the Slytherin girl took her hand from off her wand. The confrontation was over, allowing Fionn to sigh heavily and return to the comforts of his seat. Taylor held her head, pinched the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes.

"I hate him." She muttered under her breath.

"He's a nut, looking for a fight with anything that goes against his upbringing. That being said, promise you will not instigate any trouble. Mulciber is not a fair fighter when it comes to duels."

Taylor silently reveled in the idea of Remus blasting Mulciber in the Hogwarts Express, though with a nod she promised not to enact any needless violence.

"Thanks." Taylor appreciated her friend's abrupt support when she needed it.

For the first time, since their reunion, Fionn cracked a smile. "You have helped me against undesirables. I mean, we are friends after all."

The Great Hall was heralded into silence, as the first years were ushered in and sorted into the four Houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. The Sorting Hat, whom Taylor held a slight grudge toward, recited a rhythmic new poem for the young attendees. She did, however, applaud energetically for the new Slytherin arrivals. With the ceremony finally finished, Taylor's stomach growled with famished foretaste. Before the feast could begin, Professor Dumbledore, though very old, approached the podium with great energy.

"Welcome, new and returning students, to another year at Hogwarts! There are a few important things to announce before we partake in our most excellent feast." Dumbledore created a steeple his hands. All in attendance turned their attention to the headmaster. "As you are well aware, after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school will be hosting a series of visits from Aurors. They have been invited here on Ministry of Magic business. No reason for worry—but in light of recent wizarding events we are taking precautionary measures. In times like these, I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to ensure order and cooperation during these routine visits."

An uncertain applause followed Dumbledore's brief silence. Ministry involvement seemed unnecessary, counterproductive even. Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry was a secure fortress, commanded by some of the world's wisest practitioners. _So much extra security. Who or what are they preparing for? _Taylor scanned the Great Hall for signs of Virgil or other intimidating figures sent by the Ministry. Besides the discernible first years, no one seemed out of place amidst the start-of-term celebration.

"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome new additions to our staff. As of last year, Apollyon Pringle honorably resigned from his post to search for the Isle of Mam. Best of luck to our former caretaker! He will be succeeded by Mr. Argus Filch."

The headmaster gestured toward the very end of the staff table. A gangly, pale eyed man in an oversized tweed jacket tapped his foot excitedly on the flagstone floor. Oily hair dangled in his face as he attempted to stand for the recognition. A deviant thread from his coat, however, roughly snagged upon an inconveniently protruding nail head underneath the table. As he lifted his thin frame up against gravity, the seams of his left sleeve disintegrated entirely. For a moment, he stared blankly at his naked arm. Several students cackled at the embarrassment, while others groaned in sympathy. Filch grimaced, snatched the fabric from the floor and returned to the seated position.

_Poor guy._ Dumbledore waved his hand to quell the minor uproar.

"We also have added another professor to our ranks this year. After the most grievous situation with Professor Greer, Professor Lovecraft from the Salem Witches Institute has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Dressed in ornate Dogwood Rose pink robes, Helena Lovecraft nodded gently, honored by the brief recognition. Unlike with Argus Filch, the students welcomed the elegant professor with a parade of cheers and applause, until the headmaster quieted them with a raise of his hand.

"Now that we have discussed everything of importance. Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets suddenly filled with delectable treats and refreshments. Ravenous students tore into heaping piles of brisket, mashed potatoes, and garden fresh salads. The hall echoed with zealous chatter and the clatter of silverware. When the final morsels of pumpkin strudel had been consumed, the headmaster gave the official dismissal from the Great Hall. Taylor and Fionn joined the descending stream of Slytherins, through several dark labyrinthine halls, down toward the hidden entrance of the Slytherin Dungeon.

They waited patiently in front of a bare stone wall for the prefect to deliver the password. Painted snakes, curled lazily on withering branches, stared at them from the adjacent fortifications. Ouroboroi deprived of sustenance, eternally ate themselves upon elaborately decorated tapestries. Taylor, upon her first visit, had originally felt uncomfortable under the reptilian gaze; now the portraits held poetic meaning. Once the prefect arrived, he cleared his throat and moved to the front of the congregation.

"The password is _Sanitas Dimidia_. Guard it carefully and remember it."

_Broken Sanity. These passwords are always so twisted. _Bricks in the wall parted to reveal a plush common room area.

As the prefect introduced himself and stated the mandatory House rules, Taylor and Fionn stepped through the hole, and into the cold familiar marbled room. The lounge was soaked in a subterranean emerald light and adorned with petite silver rimmed windows. Water from the Black Lake lapped against the apertures, signifying their depth. A small inviting fire roared beneath the portrait of the austere House founder, Salazar Slytherin. Additional paintings decorated the wall; scenes with nesting dragons, harsh prefects from the past, and shadowy otherworldly landscapes.

Introductory speech finished, the prefect allowed the girls and boys to divide toward their separate staircases. Waves of exhaustion rippled across Taylor's thin frame. _A bed with warm quilts sounds perfect. It feels great to be back. _Stifling a yawn, she quietly bid Fionn a goodnight and descended the spiral stone steps. Her path became automated, directionally bound for her designated four poster bed. Just before Creusa entered the dormitory, Taylor drew the shimmering green hangings closed and buried herself deeply into the silky folds.


	4. Chapter 4: A Former Paleomagizoologist

Chapter Four

_Six o'clock._ Habitually, Taylor coiled toward to the edge of the mattress. The sunless room momentarily dazed the animated half-sleeper. An internal clock driven by a consistent circadian rhythm coaxed the senseless figured out of bed and toward her unpacked luggage. Faint paternal advice echoed inside her skull. _ The ancient Romans never remained in bed upon morning. Anyone who opted for a lie-in was treated with contempt! Now get up. To be alive is to be awake._ Years spent in a muggle orphanage had also catered to the girl's early morning propensities, allowing her to remain productive. Attempting to sidestep her roommates' misplaced garments and discarded shoes, the somnambulist nearly collided with a bedpost.

Taylor regained equilibrium and, in an effort to completely wake up, rubbed her eyes vigorously. Through heavy blinking, she noticed the overnight decorative change of the dormitory. Eager Slytherin girls had already begun embellishing the flagstone wall with emerald pennants and several shifting posters of Madame Bletchley and Celestina Warbeck. Overall, Taylor knew little about the wizarding world's popular culture, thus she appreciated any occasion to sample society's products.

Conscious not to wake the others, Taylor opened her travel chest and exhumed the clean uniforms from the bottommost layer. She quickly dressed, placed her wand securely in a side-pocket, and grabbed her overloaded rucksack. As the Slytherin tiptoed up the dungeon stairs, the girls behind her continued in peaceful slumber.

The empty common room, though brighter than the dormitory, shimmered across a spectrum of verdant hues. Wonder and beauty energized and excited the young student. Even after a year of acclimation to magic, even the dreariest of Hogwarts continued to be breathtaking. Leaving behind the Slytherin Dungeons, Taylor ascended the stairwells to the nearly vacant Great Hall. The Potions Master, Horace Slughorn, and the Transfiguration professor, Minerva McGonagall, chatted softly at front of the room, while several disassociated students claimed silent meals.

Wafting aromas of vanilla and cardamom invited Taylor to settle down at the unoccupied Slytherin table. She gathered a meager breakfast together, consisting of a chocolate croissant, a batch of scrambled eggs, and a steaming cup of Earl Grey. Hogwarts gradually awakened. By the time Taylor finished breakfast, the Great Hall bustled with enthusiastic pupils ready to start their lessons. Classes, however, would not begin for nearly another hour. Without a schedule, Taylor opted for a second cup of sweetened tea.

The refill paused halfway to her mouth; Regulus Black approached with a stack of parchment. Taylor placed the mug down upon the table gently. _Please let this be brief._

"You're a second year right?" Regulus browsed through the documents.

All animosity aside, Taylor nodded. "Yeah."

The schedule only barely grazed her fingertips, before Regulus pulled it back into the air.

"I heard you and Mulciber had a chat last night at the feast."

"I wouldn't exactly call it a chat. Verbal discord, maybe." Taylor grumbled and narrowed her eyes at the pamphlets securely in his hands.

Noticing the tone shift in her voice, Regulus swallowed a laugh and put the stack of papers under his arm. Taylor's schedule was practically being held for ransom.

"Shame. After last year's little incident on the train, the bloke really has it out for you and your brother. If you plan on having a good year, it may be a wise to keep a low profile."

"Since when do you hand out free advice to your enemies?" For a moment, they locked eyes. Hauntingly silver argent reflected in her amber brown garnets.

"Don't flatter yourself. Enemies require effort and energy, neither of which I plan on dedicating to you. As for the advice, there isn't a cost this time. It needed to be said, for Wilkes's sake. At this rate, you are going to drag him down with you. He's smart and a likeable addition to the Slytherin community. Don't ruin it for him."

Raw flames of provocation flared in Taylor's chest. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

"Think of this as a unique exchange between colleagues." Amused by their ambiguous wordplay, Regulus smiled as he returned to his assigned task.

The bundle rustled as he leafed through the collection, pulled out a single sheet of parchment, and handed it to the aggravated Slytherin girl. Smug and smiling, he left her alone to simmer. _Drag Fionn down with me? At least we have values at my level._ Steady breaths returned Taylor to a less emotional state. She had finally received her schedule:

\- Charms with Hufflepuff (MWF)-  
\- Transfiguration with Ravenclaw (TR)-  
-Defense Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor (MW)-  
-History of Magic with Ravenclaw (TR)-  
-Herbology with Hufflepuff (MWF)-  
-Potions with Gryffindor (MWF)-  
-Astronomy with Gryffindor (R at midnight)-

Folding the pamphlet neatly into squares, Taylor began to organize the soiled dishes and silverware in front of her. Reorganizing and cleaning, albeit beneficial, was a nervous habit. Turning away from the clean table, the Slytherin girl dove into her knapsack.

"We have Defense together today."

Startled by a hand upon her shoulder, Taylor turned around quickly. Lily, daring any Slytherin to challenge her, sat on the bench next to her friend. Relieved Taylor laughed gently and gazed up at the high ceiling.

"Good morning Lily."

"I am excited to start the new classes. I could barely sleep last night." Fearless and fiery, Lily grabbed a blueberry scone glistening with sugary glaze. Nearby a group of first year Hufflepuff girls squealed with merriment when they received their schedules.

"We weren't like that, were we?" Taylor propped her elbows upon the table and watched the young students pass about questions and exchange expectations.

Lily smiled and nudged her friend thoughtfully. "I like to think we were more composed, but I am sure we had our moments."

"I'm concerned Lily. This morning, Regulus said I was going to drag Fionn down." There was no one better to voice a concern to than the ever positive Lily Evans.

"Drag him down? Morality doesn't make people weaker, Taylor. If anything, by being Fionn's friend, you will guide him toward tolerance and understanding. The world needs more of that, not less." She pointed at Taylor to emphasize the statement and then continued. "Besides, those bullies are all bark. I've had issues in the past and it never amounted to anything."

Surprised, Taylor turned to study her Gryffindor friend. "What sort of issues? You never mentioned anything to me." For most of the year, Taylor had tried her best to shield Lily from the unnecessary bigotry permeating the Slytherin house. The only confrontation, known to her, was on the Hogwarts Express at the end of the year. A flicker of guilt skated across Lily's pink cheeks.

"Blimey, Taylor, I'm sorry." She admitted bashfully. "I hadn't mentioned anything, because I never saw their teasing as a problem worth worrying about."

"But—"

"Their words have no power to impress or frighten me. What am I supposed to do? Cry if they call me a mudblood? It isn't worth my time to worry about meaningless words. I am not going to be a helpless victim for them to walk all over."

Taylor felt her spirit revitalize with Lily's righteous explanation of courage and perspective. "I suppose when you put it that way, they really don't seem very threatening."

With a sudden jolt, Lily jumped from the seat. Confused, Taylor opened her mouth only to have the young Gryffindor girl answer her inquiry. "Fionn is walking over, and I was going to meet up with Mary Macdonald for Herbology."

Brisk and well-rested, Fionn approached the Slytherin table. Courteously, he addressed Lily with a slight nod, but quickly turned his attention to Taylor.

"I did not mean to interrupt, I only wanted to ask if I should save you a seat in Charms." Fionn inquired gently. Although the crimson-gold girl seemed out of place in the teeming sea of green, he made no impolite mention of the inconsistency. In order to stifle a humorous comment that could embarrass her friend, Lily examined the details in her cuticles.

"Oh—yeah. I mean— I'll walk with you. Catch you later Lily?"

"Sure thing. Cheers!" Lily smiled and waved to the departing pair before making her way to the Gryffindor table to meet up with classmates.

* * *

Together, the pair of second year Slytherins walked to the Charms Classroom 2E, where they claimed well-lit seats near a pair of narrow windows. Three rows of desks faced the instructor's podium, behind which stationed two massive blackboards. Upon the board, scrawled in glossy cerulean chalk, was the word _Incendio_. Upon each desk rested a small doll, some were made of wicker and others of straw. Curiously, Taylor picked up the small figurine and turned it over for clues.

The model's purpose became obvious as Professor Flitwick dove straight into the study of elemental magic, specifically fire-making charms. The goal was to incinerate their individual dolls to ash. _Julius Caesar reported that groups of Druids built large effigies out of sticks, only to then set them on fire to pay tribute to the gods. Was this just magical practice for ancient witches and wizards?_

Unlike Taylor, Fionn had no issues with pronunciation or even enacting the charm. On the first attempt, a harsh jet of flame erupted from the tip of his wand and consumed the small, straw doll on the desk. Professor Flitwick, thrilled by Fionn's exceptional charm skill, awarded five points to Slytherin and placed another doll on the desk for additional practice. After dissolving the second doll, he turned to the struggling girl beside him.

Frustrated, Taylor huffed. "How can you be so good at this when we only just started?" The wand in her hand vibrated, but no flames engulfed the wicker man.

"Many of the spells and incantations we learn are not unfamiliar to me. I have learned them over the years by watching my father."

_Logically, that makes sense. _Taylor did not respond, instead she chose to concentrate on the charm work. The best she could get from the stubborn wand was sparks, even after Fionn helped her with elocution. As they exited the classroom, she grabbed the straw doll from the lesson and vowed to have it in flames the next Charms lesson without exception.

"_Incendddio_. _Incendio_. _Incendiooo_." Taylor whispered under her breath on their trek up the Grand Staircase to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Careful now. I would hate to see you accidently catch fire." Fionn partially teased, though his tone wavered under the statement's possibility. _Maybe I should call it quits until I can actually focus._

The old-fashioned Slytherin boy held open the door to Classroom 3C, allowing Taylor to enter the Defense Against the Dark Arts room first. Instantly, she noticed the changes in the room's educational décor. The iron chandelier, which hung from the ceiling, was draped in dried flowers and herbs. Candles floated around the room, providing enough light to see by without the need to completely open the expansive windows. Several faceless mannequins stood eerily near the rear of the room, each one dressed in elaborate headdresses or masks. Feathers, wooden carvings, and ancient artifacts littered the bookshelves and walls. Amazed by the diverse pieces, Taylor nearly missed Lily's dramatic waving.

"I saved you a seat." Lily smiled warmly. Taylor looked to Fionn, as if to reaffirm the arrangement, but he walked passed her and joined the rhumba of Slytherins near the door. _Easy enough._ Taylor pulled the chair out and sat next to Lily.

"If you want, you can go sit with him. I won't mind." Lily twirled her hair, watching Taylor rake out her quills and parchment.

"He's fine." As if to reassure herself, Taylor glanced over her shoulder at the nearby row of Slytherins. To her displeasure, Tarquinius Selwyn whispered inaudibly to Fionn. Even Creusa Greengrass, who leaned in close to hear the conversation, seemed to enjoy Fionn's added company. An intrusive finger tickled Taylor's earlobe, causing her to jump with surprise. Taylor looked up to see Sirius looming above.

"Fresh start this year, eh? Maybe we'll serve less detentions this year." Sirius smirked. Taylor rolled her eyes, though chuckled slightly when Lily groaned in frustration. As Sirius and James took their seats behind the two girls, Lily placed her head gently on the cool desk.

"Has _anyone_ ever taken the time to explain to you how exhausting you can be?" Lily murmured into the wood.

James rhythmically tapped the back of the Gryffindor girl's seat with his wand and replied sweetly. "My mum reminds me occasionally."

"Throughout Herbology, I had to endure horrible slug puns and some slush about humane slug treatment." Lily complained. Irritated by the boy's persistent rapping, she scooted her chair nearer to the desk.

"How would you like it if someone incinerated you mid-meal? It is just cruel." Sirius pointed out.

"I can't tell if they are genuine or not." Lily turned to Taylor. The Slytherin watched the two boys and shook her head in amusement. _Never a dull moment with them._

"Don't worry Sirius, we will convince them next _slime_." James whispered loudly.

Synchronously, Taylor and Lily groaned as James and Sirius cackled at their hopeless witticisms. The conversation was too painful to continue listening to, so Taylor chose to ignore the troublemakers by studying the decorative nautical objects, cryptic old posters, and dusty books stacked upon shelves. A collection of freakish skulls captured her imagination, while strange instruments ticked curiously gauging the pressures in the room. In a glass box under the stairs which lead to the professor's office, Taylor noticed a small bulky white shape waddling from one end of the terrarium to the other. From her deduction, the eyeless albino creature was a unique species of miniature penguin.

Professor Helena Lovecraft entered from the staircase at the rear of the room. As she walked down the steps, the individual conversations fell silent with anticipation.

"Good afternoon students." The professor began pleasantly. "As you are all aware from last night's introductions, I am Professor Helena Lovecraft. I thought, instead of jumping directly into practical lessons and tedious book work, that perhaps I could briefly familiarize myself."

"A day off. No complaints here." Sirius yawned as he leaned back in his chair.

"Waste of time. I'm going to nap, mate. Wake me when class is over." James muttered, folding his arms on the table and burying his head in the cavern.

The young woman picked up a book from a nearby shelf and flipped through the pages thoughtfully.

"Perhaps some of you are familiar with the work of H. P. Lovecraft?" Professor Lovecraft snapped the text in her hands closed and returned to her workspace, where she sat on the desk. Taylor could not recall reading any publications by the author, though her literary interest was significantly heightened.

"My father, Howard, was both a prolific writer of muggle horror fiction and a dedicated paleomagizoologist. Generally, he wrote from personal experience. Unfortunately, his methods earned him an early retirement, as he was mandated into secrecy by the Magical Congress. Presumed dead by the literary world, he settled into seclusion and I was born shortly thereafter. Following my father's inspiration, I continued his study with the lost and forgotten, specifically in regards to maritime lost civilizations. For a few years, I taught at the Salem Witches' Institute until I was offered employment at the Miskatonic Magical Museum. Working for the museum, I was placed as Head of Expedition, where I oversaw the acquisition of magical relics from ancient sites."

The resume was impressive, leaving many of the students speechless. Creusa Greengrass was the first to raise her hand into the air. "Why ever would you come so far? Certainly you miss your home?"

Professor Lovecraft's smile wavered slightly in response to the personal question. "Both my mother and father passed away years ago, allowing the progression of research to become entirely my own. Truthfully, I travelled so often that my homesickness for America has almost completely disappeared."

"Where have you travelled to?" Lily asked curiously.

"All over the Western Hemisphere. I journeyed throughout South America and the Caribbean, searching for specimens and relics from ancient cities like Xibalba and Atlantis—"

"Atlantis? Isn't that a fairytale?" Peter Pettigrew interrupted.

"Quite the contrary. Hundreds of so-called _mythical_ places actually exist, though many are currently abandoned, lost, or heavily guarded by magical governments to protect their historical and scientific value. Practical wizards avoid these locations, because they harbor severe dangers. My last expedition, for example, was to the underwater city of R'lyeh in the Pacific Ocean. Upon leaving, my partner's lifeline broke and he disappeared immediately, pulled away by the current."

Hand only half-raised, Lily was the only student to ask the bleak question. "Was he ever found?"

"Unfortunately, each researcher enters the field knowing that their survival is dependent upon their ability to defend themselves. No rescue parties are ever issued." Students around the room exchanged somber glances with one another, but no one spoke. The professor surveyed the students, her eyes lingering on the pair of boys behind Lily and Taylor. In order to ease the tension in the room, Professor Lovecraft continued. "Now, now. I sincerely doubt any of you will experience a situation so treacherous. That being said, defensive magic is essential and can even save your life when no one is around to lend a helping hand."

The professor thoughtfully adjusted the loose sleeves of her charcoal black robes before grabbing her wand from the desk.

"I have an idea. A slight change to the original plan."

With a gentle rasp, the shutters noiselessly fastened against the windows and the many lively flames surrounding the room sizzled to glowing wicks. Taylor's pupils expanded as the room grew dark.

"Has anyone ever heard of the North American Boo Hag?" Professor Lovecraft asked. In perfect unison, Slytherins and Gryffindors shook their heads. "In Europe, they are more commonly referred to as Alps. Nocturnal shape shifters that crawl into a sleeper's room to control their dreams and feast. It typically sits upon the diaphragm, where it harvests the breath of its victim."

A wave of shivers rushed down Taylor's spine as she considered an unknown midnight assault. Vaguely, she recalled a plump elderly nurse from the orphanage who strategically placed lemon and orange peels around the courtyard. The woman claimed the scent of citrus deterred hungry feral cats from sneaking into the ward and stealing the breaths of sleeping children. Concerned for the spiritual innocence around her, the attendant even began to hide garlic in wardrobes and leave tiny saucers of butter under windowsills. Eventually, the cocktail of odors became so repulsive that the director was forced to sack the superstitious nurse.

"The Alp attack is noticeable while you dream. You will feel an abnormal tightness in the chest and endure violent, nightmarish images. As your heart rate accelerates, so does your breathing. After the Alp paralyzes the limbs, it forces the sleeper awake to experience fear in reality." Professor Lovecraft scanned the room with a perceptive eye. With a flick of her wand, she summoned an oblong object from her office, covered mysteriously with a dark sheet. Smoothly gliding down the staircase, it landed lightly on the floor near the instructor's feet.

"Defense is easy enough." Professor Lovecraft continued. "Upon waking, cough until the Alp breaks contact. Skittish by nature, the creature will flee without causing any more trouble. So while it may feel like the most terrifying situation of your life, it was really quite harmless. If you are a witness to such an attack, a simple _Libero _spell will release the victim."

A short hop off the desk brought Professor Lovecraft to her feet. The class watched intently, as she kneeled and lifted the covering from the object on the floor. Beyond a cage of thin iron bars, crouched a miniature troll-like creature. Thick red ooze dripped down its gnarled face occasionally blurring its bulbous black eyes. Blinking furiously, the troll approached the locked door of its cell. Professor Lovecraft observed the room casually, until her gaze once again fell on the dozing James Potter.

"Who is interested in seeing a demonstration?" The educator inquired cheerfully. "We already seem to have an eager volunteer."

The students turned their attention to their unconscious colleague at the front of the room. A few spectators, Slytherin by nature, stood with enthusiastic apprehension. Under the stare of spectators, Sirius shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"If our volunteer is unable to severe the link with the Alp, the worst that will happen is a feeling of exhaustion and a shortness of breath." Professor Lovecraft opened the door to the cage and, cautiously, the wide-eyed creature escaped onto the flagstone floor.

"James is so screwed." Amused by the punitive measure, Lily whispered to Taylor.

The top of the Alp's tonsured scalp barely measured to the knees of the seated students. Except for the shuffling of feet, the creature was inaudible. The Alp paused near Taylor and sniffed the air twice. _Well, I will be damned. The Alp looks exactly like how Daniel Babio described Old Bloody Bones from the orphanage. He really did exist. _Skillfully, the Alp shimmied up the wooden leg of the desk behind Taylor. Both Lily and Taylor turned to watch the event unfold. _Poor James, I almost feel bad… Almost. _

Instinctually, Sirius pulled his hands off the desk and under the desk, away from any observable threat. The varmint tottered passed the first Gryffindor and paused to examine the sleeping boy sitting next to him. Carefully, the Alp reached out and grabbed fistfuls of James's feathered back hair. Although, the boy's leg twitched, he remained comfortably asleep with his arms folded beneath his head. With a jerk, the Alp pulled James's head up by thick strands of hair. The creature rocked back and forth, as it began to deeply inhale a noticeably faint cerulean stream being exhaled by the Gryffindor boy. Watching the scene was both frightening, yet morbidly interesting. Distressed at his friend's vulnerability, Sirius raised his wand to banish the Alp. Before he could shout the incantation, Professor Lovecraft put a hand on his tense shoulder.

"Hold off, he will be fine." Professor Lovecraft reassured him.

As if on cue, James's eyes fluttered open. Dim and drooling, the Gryffindor boy moaned in protest, but could not ward of the attacker. Helplessly paralyzed, James stared into the Alp's lipless mouth. After a moment, the professor pulled the preventive hand from Sirius's shoulder.

"Alright, give the spell a try. _Libero_, with a straight point at the target."

Wasting no time, Sirius barked the invocation which instantly released his comrade from the creature's grasp. Thrown into a wild frenzy, the emaciated Alp scurried off the students' tabletop, across the floor, and to its sanctuary. James wheezed heavily, oxygen slowly returning to his lungs.

"I keep Alhazred nearby during lessons for those students who like to fall into lulls. Typically, I only ever have to use him once." With a satisfied grin, Professor Lovecraft draped the satin covering over the small enclosure and positioned the cage carefully at the edge of the desk. "Very well, everyone, this was a superb first lesson. Homework will be to split up into groups of four, pick up one of the complimentary copies of Al Azif from the librarian, and then read the entire section on creatures beyond the threshold. Summarize it for me and hand in the assignment by next Monday."

Talking excitedly, the class was dismissed from the confines of the lecture room. The startling lesson was harsh and jagged, but thrilling in retrospect. Professor Lovecraft had earned the majority's respect and attention; never before had defensive magic seemed applicable for the everyday. Hurriedly, Taylor followed Lily and the Gryffindor boys out into the hallway. In an attempt not to be swept away by the crowd, the Slytherin girl pressed her back into the corridor wall.

"That was the _best_ Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had!" Lily beamed. "Professor Greer never brought examples into his lessons like that!"

Exhausted and breathless, James struggled to stake his complaint. "Speak for yourself Evans. I was in fear for my life."

"Seriously. What is she trying to prove, picking on James like that?" Sirius grumbled in disgust.

"Perhaps next time you shouldn't sleep during class and miss the vital information which can save your life." Remus suggested casually. Sarcasm lost in a fit of gasps and coughs, James used a crude hand gesture to illustrate his general disgruntlement with practical education.


	5. Chapter 5: The Ebon Canvas

"Whomping Willows," Professor Sprout reminded the Herbology class of Greenhouse Four, "are an extremely violent species of magical plant. Even young saplings, fresh from the earth, will attack innocent passersby who venture within range of their branches."

Hushed whispers circulated the sundrenched conservatory. Cautionary tales forewarned listeners of the local Whomping Willow near the edge of the grounds. Gigantic and lumbering, last year's addition to the landscape caused a commotion amongst the older students. Several daring individuals had even ventured close enough to the tree's farthest roots, though returned to the castle suffering from minor concussions and deep bruising.

The tiny potted sapling in front of Taylor, alerted by the very sound of the professor's voice, thrashed about wildly in its terracotta prison. For a moment, the Slytherin girl pitied the confined sprout. The sympathy dissolved, however, when a loose twig snapped free, spiraled through the air, and collided with her forehead. In order to prevent further assault, Taylor pushed the vessel and its contents closer to her Herbology partner. Fionn delicately received the impetuous sapling and patiently allowed it to act out the tantrum.

"These specimens will remain here until they mature and are adopted by the HEX organization: Herbologists Extracting Xylan." Professor Sprout explained energetically; her excitement was lost on the majority of Slytherins.

_What is a xylan and why would anyone insist on dedicating a whole organization to extracting it? Who would dedicate their lives to something so incredibly boring? _As if to answer her question, a huddle of Hufflepuffs enthusiastically raised their hands to ask about the organization's current research. Indifferent to the response, Taylor turned quietly toward her neighbor, who distractedly excavated nuggets of soil from the cracks of the table. _Someone's got the right idea. _With a sudden clap of her hands, Professor Sprout attracted Taylor's attention once more.

"I must clearly stress, one final time, the message of this lesson. Do not approach the Whomping Willow we maintain here on the grounds. Madam Pomfrey does not want to see any mishaps this year. Return next class with a brief paper on the applicability of Whomping Willows in wizarding society. Class dismissed."

A hurried shuffle of papers and chairs signaled the end of Herbology. Taylor began to pack away her notebooks, brushing away excess soil. She reached for her quill, which set the sapling into a fit of relentless flailing. _People have actually tried to mess with the Whomping Willow? You wouldn't catch me anywhere near it._ Fionn tapped the desk, lingering thoughtfully between putting away his supplies. As Taylor pulled the strings of her knapsack tightly closed, Fionn squared off his shoulders and addressed her directly.

"Do you want to join our group for the Defense assignment? Creusa, Selwyn, and I still require another person." Fionn asked politely. Classically composed and emotionless, the boy waited calmly for her reply. The proposal itself caught Taylor off guard. _Doesn't he know they would eat me alive?_ Still, the offer was generous considering her place within the Slytherin social stratification.

Taylor hesitated over right words. "I'll have to pass. Lily and I were actually setting up a group." It was only partially a lie. Lily never excluded her from homework collaborations, though Taylor had forgotten to ask in the first place. Regardless of Lily's availability for the project, the thought of working closely with other Slytherins brought mixed feelings of anxiety and aversion. For a fleeting moment, Fionn's face reflected a shade of disappointment. Typical of his nature, however, the disappointment melted away into confident repose.

Eavesdropping, Selwyn scoffed boorishly. He sat directly behind the pair next to the deeply uninterested Creusa Greengrass.

"Predictable as usual. I'm not sure why you bother with her, Wilkes." Resentment simmered at the back of Taylor's throat urging her tongue to spew heated words. She felt his shallow brown eyes burrowing into the back of her skull.

"Stop being a prat. Taylor has the right to accept or deny an invitation." Fionn, frustrated by the boy's uncouth disposition, twisted in his chair to face the pest. Never one to surrender, Taylor turned to confront Selwyn's hectoring. They silently judged each other's weaknesses. Sections of lengthy grey-black hair were braided along the sides of his head.

_I'll hex you, here and now, if you give me a reason._ Selwyn eagerly opened his mouth to deliver a self-amusing criticism on Taylor's behalf, only to be suppressed by Creusa's impatience. She pointed a finger toward the glass roof and offered a suggestion.

"Severus is still available. Nobody's asked the poor thing—I am sure he'd love to join our group." Oblivious to the suspense, other students continued to file passed the intrahouse hostility. Fionn, who was the first to concede to Creusa's proposal, nodded gently.

"I'd prefer some misfit over a blood traitor any day." Selwyn crossed his arms and muttered to no one in particular. Creusa grimaced in disgust at the opinionated verbal vomit. "But sure, I'll go ask the mutt." Selwyn grabbed his satchel with a sneer and exited the greenhouse followed by Creusa.

Regulus's words battered around Taylor's mind. _At this rate, you are going to drag him down with you. He's smart and a likeable addition to the Slytherin community. Don't ruin it for him. _Taylor clenched her fists so tightly nails bit into her palms. _They are purposefully making this difficult._ A sigh escaped from Fionn, but with a shake of his head he disregarded the situation. He looked at Taylor, who stared at the exit.

"Ready for Potions?"

"I think I'd like to walk alone, thanks." Taylor mumbled distantly.

With a shrug, Fionn stood and walked passed an assortment of insectivorous plants toward the door. The Slytherin boy paused for a moment to pat his clutch of books reassuringly. "That is unfortunate. Walking with a companion would greatly increase the odds of my Potions textbook actually making it all the way to the first class."

Involuntarily, Taylor's lips split into a genuine smile. "With logic like that, it's a bloody wonder that you've managed to hold onto any books at all."

"Walk with me then?" Fionn asked tactfully.

"Alright, alright." Taylor's grin remained even after they passed Selwyn, Creusa, and Severus in the Entrance Hall. Descending into the depths of the dungeons, the pair quietly discussed their vicious Whomping Willow, paperwork methodologies, and expectations for the coming year. Although conversational trivialities were not Fionn's strength, he continued, as a good friend would, to lighten Taylor's spirit.

* * *

Professor Slughorn spent the entirety of the lecture describing valuable uses for the Volubilis Potion. Most widely used to alter the drinker's voice, the potion could also restore a lost voice restrained by the effects of a Silencing Charm. The youthful, straw-haired professor demonstrated the effectiveness of the concoction by adding two drops to his tongue. His booming voice immediately shriveled to a high-pitched tone, allowing him to warble out songs suitable only for the half-deafened ears of highland leprechauns. During his presentation, Taylor nudged Lily's shoulder. The Gryffindor girl, anxious to spare her eardrums from the piercing soprano, provided Taylor with her full attention.

"Have you formed a study group for Defense yet?" Taylor asked in a whisper.

Lily shook her head and grinned at her friend's relieved expression. "Don't be silly, I would never force you into causeless interaction with your housemates."

The crooning faded into a tense applause from the audience. Professor Slughorn scratched the back of his head in mild embarrassment.

"Normally my vocals compliment this pitch. The Volubilis Potion can often take some minor tuning, if you're rusty." His voice was noticeably feminine, causing Slytherins and Gryffindors alike to snicker in amusement. The effects of the potion lasted for the remainder of the period. Painfully, the students listened to Professor Slughorn assign readings and dismiss the class; his prepubescent voice splintering midsentence.

Upon exiting the dungeon, Taylor snorted back laugh. "I've actually missed Slughorn. I never would have imagined, really."

"And would you look at that? Our first day back as second years is over." Lily pointed out.

"What now then? Dinner and homework? We still need to find two more people for our Defense group."

"I was planning on asking Mary if she was still available." Carefully, Lily scanned the dispersing flock of students. "Mary, wait up!"

Lurching forward, Taylor was dragged by the crook of her arm toward a lanky girl with curly blonde hair. A folded black and white checkered bandana kept the bouncing curls neatly pinned behind her head. Rosacea blushed her face, brightening her cornflower blue eyes. The meek girl waited for the approaching pair at the top of the stairs.

"Oh goodness! It is only the first day and I am already feeling so overwhelmed!" The sheepish, young student admitted. In the past, Taylor had never taken the time to notice Mary Macdonald. Unlike the other extroverted Gryffindors, the girl seemed plain and reserved, keeping to herself and avoiding unnecessary attention. Lily, however, was friendly enough to coax any hermit away from isolation.

"Don't worry. You'll be alright." Lily patted Mary on the shoulder reassuringly. "Do you still need a group for the Defense assignment? We are trying to round up two more people."

Mary's eyes lit up eagerly. "What luck! Lucretia Abney and I paired up this morning."

"Well here we are!" Lily excitedly wrapped an arm around Taylor and brought her closer. _I think I am beginning to understand why Fionn feels uncomfortable with casual touch._

The timid girl paused upon noticing Taylor's partially hidden, emerald green silk inlay. Uncertain, Mary held out a trembling hand. "You are Remus's sister, Taylor, right? Sorry I've never introduced myself before— I'm Mary Macdonald."

_I must look like one of those posh Slytherin girls. _The thought brushed a smile onto Taylor's face, as she shook Mary's extended hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mary."

The gesture and contact lightened the shy Gryffindor's mood. Less apprehensive, Mary addressed the initial task. "I'll tell Lucretia to join us in the common room around seven. We can study there with some after-dinner tea."

A sudden dead air threatened to smother the discussion, as they all considered the pertinent question. _Am I even allowed to enter Gryffindor Tower? _ Rules pertaining to the particular circumstance had never been addressed before. A whole year passed by without Taylor ever needing to cross into foreign territory. Even presently, the young Slytherin remained unaware of the secret tower's exact location. Lily was the first to offer a solution to the unspoken problem.

"Better yet, let's all meet up in the library." The proposal was promptly accepted by a unanimous nod of heads. "Wonderful! Now we'll have access to outside research if we need it. Really though— Have you two heard? This book is well over nine hundred pages long!"

_Nice save, Lils._

* * *

Strained grunts echoed off the stone walls of Gryffindor Tower. The early eighth century edition of Kitab al Azif by Abdul Alhazred was not intended for travel, even over short distances. With effort, Remus struggled under the physical weight of knowledge. Along the way, portraits admired the student's dedication to his education. Professor Valeria Myriadd, sophistically painted amidst a blooming cherry orchard, encouraged the Gryffindor to keep up the good practice of evening study and admired his dedication. Remus humbly received the laudation.

A trip to the library seemed simple enough for the ambitious volunteer. In his eagerness, however, Remus had underestimated the effort it took to climb the stairs while balancing a new, unwieldy burden. He nudged open the dormitory door with his foot and, with a final heave, dropped the cumbersome tome upon his mattress. Remus's entrance enlivened the room's previously hushed occupants. From the nearest bed, Peter dropped his after dinner Cornish pasty in surprise.

"Look at the size of it! That's a few kilos, easy." Peter exclaimed.

James, who sat on the floor with his back against his partially unpacked trunk, stretched his legs and attempted to touch his toes.

"What did you expect, mate? Lovecraft is bonkers. No way can we read all that this year." James jumped to his feet, in order to get a closer look at the mysterious book.

Sirius, however, remained unconcerned with the tome's mass and the year's impending workload. Instead, he relaxed thoughtfully on the windowsill, a quill twirling about in his hands. Remus opened the book and traced the lines of scripture with his finger. Particles of dust swirled up from the edition. Arabic script scrawled across the pages, an elegant and ancient calligraphy. James squinted over Remus's shoulder in confusion.

"The bloody hell is this? I can't even make out the letters! Either basic education has failed me or our professor is having a laugh." Exasperated, James threw his hands in the air and turned away.

"Wait a minute, look here." Remus observed. As his finger lightly brushed the cloudy ink, beneath the finely written scripture illuminated a silver-blue English translation. "It reads: Alhazred, a poet in the court of a minor nobleman in the city of Sanaá, for reasons unknown, left the city and spent ten years wandering in the deserts. During this time he visited Irim, City of the Pillars, the catacombs of Egypt, and the temple of Nug and Yeb in the Crimson Desert. In his old age, Alhazred lived in the great city of Damascus, where he produced the Kitab al Azif. In the long years that followed many translations of this great work have been—"

"That Alp wrote this book?" The thought was enough to cause James's voice to crack between syllables. "We're taking Defense advice from her creepy little pet? That's it! I'm writing home for a waiver."

"Calm down James." Remus reassured his tense friend, though it took what little strength he had left not to laugh at his unreasonable fear. "The Alp is only named after the author. Besides, this course is mandatory. May as well make the most of it."

"Perhaps. I just cannot get over how Lovecraft—"

"Lovecraft, Lovecraft, Lovecraft!" Sirius finally cut in. "Do you fancy our professor? She's all you've been yammering on about." Nearby, Peter snickered but trailed off when he became the only noise in the room.

"No. I _fancy_ waking up to pillows, tea, and a full English breakfast, not near death experiences." James defended himself.

"The professor did say that you'd be alright." Peter recalled, licking his fingers and picking up the stray crumbs left behind from his pastry.

Sensing permanent digression, Remus cleared his throat. "Can we maybe get back to the book? We have to finish this 100 page section and the written assignment by Monday."

"Or, and this is just a suggestion, we can go out and work on the map." Sirius reached into his cloak and pulled out the rolled up parchment. He tapped the window with the scroll. "I want to find a passage into that Shrieking Shack everyone has been raving on about. That necromancer got into our impervious castle somehow and I am betting those tunnels beneath the grounds and to that house."

The hairs on the back of Remus's neck stiffened and a chill of distress settled in his stomach. Hesitantly, he swallowed and, without making eye contact, lifted a shaking hand to emphasize his opposition. "That's beyond dangerous Sirius. There are Ministry officials patrolling the grounds and I am sure Dumbledore has sealed up that passageway." Remus knew his argument was not strong enough to sober Sirius's enthusiasm for adventure.

"Don't be a worry wart, Remus. If you want you can stay and work on the assignment while James, Peter, and I go out." Sirius gestured at James and Peter encouragingly, but frowned when both companions looked away.

"Sorry, mate. Mischief is taking tonight off. We can save the ghouls and dark tunnels for another night." James admitted. Peter stared at the wall, seemingly camouflaged by his quiet disinterest.

Disappointed, Sirius sighed in defeat and tucked the map back into his cloak. He stared out the window, down at the shadowy landscape, imagining exhilarating death-defying scenarios. Waiting was the most unappealing option for a boy who enjoyed provoking danger.

"Well go on Remus. Educate us, will you?" Sirius proposed halfheartedly. Remus's concern subsided momentarily but as he recited the text, a twinge of biting misery began to trouble his imagination. If Sirius and the others successfully found their way into the Shrieking Shack during his transformation at the full moon, the consequences would be fatal.

* * *

The first week of classes quickly elapsed into fond new memories. History of Magic with the translucent Professor Cuthbert Binns was predictably monotonous, though Transfiguration began with an extraordinary lesson about transforming small animals into glass objects. When Sirius and James were late to Astronomy, Professor Plancius demonstrated how to depict time by aligning the North Star with the face of the clock. Dedicated to her vow, Taylor even mastered the fire-making charm _Incendio_ before the following Charms class. By the end of the week, Lily and Taylor departed from Potions ready for the weekend.

Led by the wafting scent of honeyed ham and cinnamon rolls, Taylor hungrily drifted toward the Great Hall. Lily, however, paused attentively near the Grand Staircase. Begrudgingly, Taylor hesitated at the door, jealous of those students rushing for their seats.

"Everything alright?" Taylor asked.

Lily nodded reassuringly. "Yeah. I just wanted to ask Professor Lovecraft to clarify that section about shadow men. Before the weekend, you know?"

"Oh, yes. Shadow men." The young Slytherin muttered to herself. Lily began to climb the stairs.

"I'll catch up with you tomorrow. We can work on the assignment with Mary and Lucretia—"

"No, wait up." Taylor hurried after her. "I'll come with you. We can always catch a meal after."

Slightly relieved to have company, Lily smiled and climbed the staircase. Portraits covering the walls in this tower. From platform to platform, the pair carefully meandered the shifting flights to the third floor. They jumped the final set of trick stairs before entering the quiet corridor. _It feels like I am walking to detention. _Taylor held the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom door open for her friend, who entered the dark sweet-smelling room. The faceless mannequins waited eerily in the shadows, their masks grimacing angrily in the gloom. Passed the desks, the pair approached the office door at the back of the room careful not to disturb the snoozing albino creature beneath the stairwell. The door was cracked open, which provided Taylor the courage to push it open gently.

"Professor?" Lily called out politely.

Taylor stepped into the tiny office, awed by the vast collection of relics and maps pinned to the walls. Amongst the stacks of paper, nestled several turquoise serpents, potbellied figures, and spout-and-handle pitchers. On the southernmost wall hug a massive black canvas adorned with a polished silver frame. The corners of the canvas were frayed. The paint was almost reflective in surface. Lily approached the piece and squinted at it.

"What do you think the story is with this?" Lily posed curiously. _How am I to know? I don't know why anyone would keep such a useless piece. _

Taylor shrugged. "It looks pretty old."

The Gryffindor girl rolled her eyes. "Everything in here must be ancient. I mean, do you think she found it?"

"We actually uncovered that curio beneath Lake Titicaca during our Wanaku expedition." Professor Lovecraft explained from the office door. Taylor and Lily turned to give the instructor their full attention. "After years of research, the museum deemed that it had no verifiable monetary value. No curator was willing to invest in a painting lacking retrievable artwork. Robert was always so fond of it though and, because of that, the piece has always held great sentimental value for me. I'm lucky the Miskatonic allowed me to keep it when I moved transatlantic."

"Robert, ma'am?" Lily asked interestedly.

"My late partner, Robert Olmstead. He was an expert in the field and an excellent research assistant." Professor Lovecraft hurriedly waved away the mounting empathy in the room. With a positive surge of energy, she smiled and closed the office door. "Now, now. No worries. I am really enjoying this new life. Less trouble and more eager minds ready for learning."

"We are happy that you are settling in, professor." Lily smiled. "Sorry about intruding. We just wanted to ask you a question about the assigned chapter."

"Not a problem. Ask away."

Having provided the invitation, Professor Lovecraft tactfully sat down at her desk to professionally receive the inquiry. Lily quickly vaulted into a multiplicity of comprehensive questions. How dependent are shadow people on their light sources? Are they classified as non-human beings? What are their capabilities? Can they exist in any medium? Are they strictly solitary or do they congregate in communities? Professor Lovecraft answered to the best of her abilities. The specifications and supplemental facts fascinated Lily. Unfortunately, the professor's answers stimulated the creation of additional questions which led to a lengthy discussion about the possibility of shadow people in underwater environments.

While her friend interrogated the expert, Taylor distracted herself with the flickering shadows dancing around the room. The window, partially closed, provided a view of a darkening sky. Autumn was ushering in earlier nights, which harkened winter's inevitable arrival. For a moment, Taylor fixated on her own shade._ I wonder_ _how many shadow people are living in Hogwarts right now. _The innocent thought unsettled the Slytherin. She averted her gaze away from her shadow and to the less troubling, tattered painting. Try as she might, Taylor could not discern any faded lines or watermarks. Instead, she only saw her darkened image, barely visible amidst the surface's numerous imperfections. Nearly an hour passed, before Lily's curiosity was finally satisfied.

"Do you have any questions Taylor?" Professor Lovecraft asked gently, amused by the girls' academic interest.

Startled by the sudden consideration, Taylor turned away from the canvas. "Does the painting have a name?"

"Excuse me?" Professor Lovecraft cocked her head in brief confusion.

"This painting you found with Mr. Olmstead. Does it have a name?" Taylor attempted to clarify. _I must look like a nosy-body._

A laugh escaped passed Professor Lovecraft's lips as she realized the simplicity of Taylor's question. "My apologies. I was still thinking about shadow people. Fellow colleagues at the museum called it the Ebon Canvas, probably for its likeness to finished ebony. If you are looking for its original title, however, I am afraid that is long forgotten."

Taylor nodded quietly. After one last glance at the peculiar piece, the students bid their instructor a goodnight and departed toward the Great Hall for dinner.

* * *

_Various dimensions through time and space, intersecting and severing, allowing the passage of magical phenomenon. Thus aiding in the possible origins of magic. _Analytical considerations and notable text from _Al Azif _filled the unoccupied crevices of Taylor's mind. Theories and notions were thrown into chaos, uncontrollable without the ability to research or question a source.

Earlier that day, Taylor met the three Gryffindor girls in the library in an attempt to tackle the Defense assignment. Taylor remembered the gathering so clearly: Lucretia's critical glances, Mary's nervous quibbles, and Lily's effort to keep everyone focused. And then, the question that led to Taylor's problem. _Is it alright if we keep the book overnight? _Lily had asked innocently. The question was a diplomatic formality. The Gryffindors outnumbered Taylor three to one, thwarting any real hope of obtaining the book. For a long moment Taylor had stared at the text, but nodded in agreement. Self-interest aside, it made logical sense for Lily and the others to hold onto the book. She would have plenty of time to look over the information over and complete the assignment—Retrospect was a distasteful affliction. Unable to cope with her free time, Taylor rested in bed and attempted to write a rough introduction to Lovecraft's first assignment.

_The initial chapter of Al Azif serves as a descriptive index of creatures, such as _ and _. Most specifically are those _. This is useless, I won't be able to remember anything for this assignment, until it is right in front of me. I should have fought for the book. _

Recollection consigned to oblivion, Taylor sighed heavily and brought the parchment over her face. The shroud helped her to focus on the creatures she had read about: Ghouls, Night-Gaunts, Shoggoths, Jinns, and Weird Finned— No use. The assignment was a fruitless endeavor without the reference to guide Taylor through the specificities. _I should have braved the Slytherins._

"Everything alright?" The voice surprised the contemplative young Slytherin girl, who thought she was alone. Taylor sat up quickly to address Creusa. She stood near the entranceway, struggling to maintain her balance while carrying the familiar cumbersome tome.

"Yeah." Taylor responded hesitantly. "Just trying to get a head start on the Defense assignment."

Halfway into the dormitory, Creusa dropped the book on the floor. "Weird stuff, I'd say. I can barely pronounce half the names in the bestiary."

The conversation seemed innocent enough, though Taylor had never talked directly to Creusa before.

"It gets harder when you don't have a book for reference." Taylor pointed out half-heartedly. Creusa chuckled, but seemed generally sympathetic.

"I told the boys that_ I_ was taking the book. Fionn and Severus got mostly everything they needed and Selwyn won't get the material no matter how long he looks at it." In order to emphasize her point, Creusa rolled her eyes and violently shook her head from side to side. "The boy is practically a half-wit. Anyway, you are welcome to go through this copy. I wasn't going to use it much tonight, seeing as I've got an early morning rendezvous Balthasar."

The offer shocked Taylor enough for her to completely disregard the nauseating mention of Mulciber. Without thinking, she blurted the first response on the tip of her tongue. "You'd let me look at your copy? Don't you dislike me like the others?"

"Heavens no!" Exasperated, Creusa threw her hands up and pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. "I don't quite understand what the boys have against you. Personally, I don't have any reason to hate you or your ideas. When all is said and done, you are still a Slytherin."

For a moment, the revelation overwhelmed Taylor. As an outcast, she rarely ever felt accepted by her housemates. "It is good to know I am not completely despised."

"Of course." A pity smile skirted across Creusa's face. "Don't get any wrong impressions though. We obviously can't be chummy in public. It may ruin my good-standing reputation with the others." The newfound optimism within Taylor waned suddenly.

_I don't know whether to respect her honesty or be disgusted by her phony, classism. Acting in order to be accepted by the popular crowd. _Tight-lipped and reserved, Taylor waited for the other Slytherin to prepare an acceptable excuse.

"It's a game, Taylor." Creusa encouraged sweetly. "You have to understand."

_Oh, I understand. Weak minded individuals care more for what people think, than for the truth._

"Sure thing. Thanks for the book." Taylor managed to answer before the conversation tumbled awkwardly into an uncomfortable silence. As if they were alone, the two girls returned to the solitude of their individual activities. Stifling a yawn, Creusa crawled under the sheets of her four-poster bed and drew the privacy curtains, while Taylor slipped down to the dormitory floor to thoroughly examine the enigmatic first chapter of Al Azif.


	6. Chapter 6: The Slytherin Quidditch Team

Chapter Six

Cardamom. A mild peppery, faintly nutty, aromatic scent. Sweet hints of fennel and anise mingled comfortably with the other spicy fragrances brewing from the Great Hall. Taylor loved the month of October for its rich scents. The distinctive aroma reminded the young Slytherin of her father. While the features of his face were gradually fading from her memory, the ancient spice's lasting scent endured.

Even as the coursework mounted, Taylor was able to find time to enjoy the brisk autumn air. Lily, unfortunately, could not say the same. For weeks, the young Gryffindor complained about swollen glands and an aching throat. Hogwarts was a Petri dish of bacteria; students, fresh from their summer quarantine, now had to regularly exercise their immune systems. Madam Pomfrey, the school's matron nurse, dispensed generous amounts of Pepperup Potion to all the ailing students. Despite Lily's dedication to the medicinal regime, the irritation lingered. The Gryffindor rationalized her prevailing condition with the steadfast justification that: _Not even magic can cure a common cold! _Much to Taylor's disappointment, the only time they were able to spend together involved class or homework. While Lily recovered with additional bedrest, Taylor devoted her early mornings and late evenings to her books. Old Arthurian favorites from Alfred Tennyson paired well with popular magical fiction by Fifi LaFolle. The pages distracted Taylor from the occasional snipes and jeers from fellow Slytherins.

Early one morning in mid-October, Taylor quickly gathered up her textbooks and scrolls in order to meet Fionn in the Great Hall for breakfast. Before leaving the dormitory, she gingerly tucked _Idylls of the King _between her academic materials. Upon exiting the common room, several shimmering green flyers on the stairwell wall caught her attention:

Slytherin Tryouts  
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Think _YOU_ have what it takes?  
Show us this Saturday!  
Quidditch Pitch, 6 PM

***First Years Need Not Apply***

Taylor shamelessly tore a poster off the wall and studied the flawless calligraphy. _Quidditch tryouts... Is the season starting already? _A pair of sleepy-eyed Slytherin girls pushed passed Taylor, who quickly rolled up the flyer and tucked it beneath her cloak. She continued quietly toward the Great Hall, where she claimed a seat near the end of the Slytherin table. Just as Taylor finished transferring a neat row of Oxford sausages to her plate, Fionn arrived and took the seat beside her.

"Good morning." Fionn murmured. Taylor, mouth full of blueberry scone, nodded in reply. Fionn reached for a buttered crumpet, but withdrew suddenly to avoid a collision with a tawny delivery owl. The bird dropped a glossy black envelope and departed with a substantial flap. The Slytherin boy picked up the letter and turned it over thoughtfully in his hands.

"What's that?" Taylor asked curiously.

Fionn used a butter knife to cleanly open the envelope. "An invitation from my father."

"Invitation for what?"

"Every two years, the families gather together to corroborate their histories and… _advise _the younger generation on important social matters. Essentially, they teach us to uphold tradition, safeguard the bloodline, and respect familial ties. My father wants me to attend, but I think I may decline in order to focus on my studies." Fionn traced the silver border of invitation with his finger gently before shaking his head and tossing it to the center of the table.

Taylor stared curiously at the discarded invitation. She imagined a dusty dank library packed with withering octogenarians mourning the degeneration of society's youth. Amused by the notion, the Slytherin girl chuckled. Taylor reached into her pack, pulled out the Quidditch flyer, and discreetly slid it across the table to Fionn.

"Perhaps you will find this more appealing." Taylor tapped the poster excitedly. "Tryouts will be held before the week's out."

Fionn folded his hands pensively and studied the shimmering advertisement. "Ah yes, Quidditch." The brief acknowledgement fell flat alongside Taylor's enthusiasm.

"Are you interested in trying out?" She pressed forward.

"Honestly, I had not given Quidditch much thought." Fionn paused to take a sip of iced elderberry juice before making a decision. "Outside of my classes, I do not have any other responsibilities."

A surge of excitement rushed through Taylor's veins. _Fionn definitely could be a great Quidditch player. No contest!_

"If that is the case," Fionn wiped his hands on a linen napkin, "we should practice before the tryout."

"We?" Taylor asked in confusion.

"You expect me to join alone?" Fionn pushed the flyer back toward her. "You remember how to fly, I am sure? Both of us can attend the tryouts."

"Yeah, but..." _The others will never let me join the team. How can I explain that to him—_

"Stop doing that." Fionn chided. Taylor leaned back slightly, puzzled by her friend's sudden reprimand. "You have not been yourself lately. Soft-spoken, self-conscious. If you let them get into your head, Taylor, they will own you."

_So he does know. Have I been that out of it? _Taylor rolled her eyes dramatically, although she knew his words were true. "I am just readjusting to life at Hogwarts. Trust me, I can handle anything they throw at me."

Fionn eyed her, but did not press the issue further. "So, practice after class today then?"

* * *

Saturday evening, Taylor ate an exceptionally light dinner of apricot preserves and saltless crackers. Potatoes and brisket, she reasoned silently, would weigh her down at tryouts. Nerves helped to make the decision easier. Although training with Fionn had gone exceedingly well, the prospect of performing in front of others churned Taylor's stomach. The Slytherins had borrowed a pair of brooms from Madam Hooch, who was pleased to see the second years taking the sport so seriously. Together the two shook free from the summer's rust by practicing sharp turns, weaving between posts, and tossing around a spare quaffle. No falls, fumbles, or collisions. Despite progress and reassurance, the anticipation of trying out for the team haunted Taylor.  
_  
_Down the frigid steps, Fionn and Taylor left the Entrance Hall behind and hurried toward the Quidditch pitch. A bracing wind lashed against their faces, threatening to hurl the forthcoming riders from their brooms.

"Taylor!" A familiar voice called from somewhere off in the distance. Confused, the Slytherin girl slowed her pace and scanned the area. Remus frantically sprinted up the path toward the pair, an expression of desperation plastered across his face.

"Taylor, I can't believe I found you! We need to talk straight away." Her brother noticed Fionn and promptly added, "And privately?"

"Remus, we're sort of busy at the—"

"Please, it's urgent." Remus begged.

Fionn picked up his stride, leaving Taylor behind with her brother. "I will be at the pitch. Just remember to pick up a broom in the locker."

As Fionn melded slowly into the distance, Taylor turned full attention to her fidgeting sibling. The whites of his eyes unnaturally ambered in the light of sunset. Remus rubbed his dilated pupils with shaking hands, before taking a deep breath to calm himself down. _Tonight is a full moon. Why isn't Remus settled in for the night?_

"What's wrong? Shouldn't you be leaving to—visit, um our sick—"

"Yeah, yeah. I am visiting Aunt Seia tonight, but I still have time." Remus pulled her to the side, away from the path and potential ears. He remained silent until the footpath was completely out of sight. In a hushed voice, Remus continued, "Sirius and James have been breaking curfew all week."

"What else is new?" Taylor's attempt to lighten the conversation failed.

"They are looking for an entrance into Shrieking Shack. Sirius expects to find some grand adventure on the other side… But tonight, I- Taylor, I could kill them if they figure out the way in."

"I think you are giving them way too much credit. No one, but you and Dumbledore, knows where the entrance is, right? I mean, I don't even know how to get in!"

"Lower your voice, please." Remus pressed his palms into his eye sockets. The young boy released his face, stared at the ground, and choked back a bout of dry heaving. His face whitened several shades. "They are going to find out my secret. You have to help me."

"I don't know how I can help. If you are so concerned about this, why don't you go to the headmaster?"

"No, no! If I go to Dumbledore, James and Sirius will get in trouble for breaking curfew. I can't betray them that way. They are my friends." Unable to remain still, Remus neurotically ran his hands through his hair. "Taylor, please. You are the only person I can turn to for help."

A fresh wave of guilt overwhelmed Taylor. While she pursued exciting recreational activities at her leisure, Remus struggled with a lifetime of animalistic urges and physical pain. Memories of her brother's screams and whimpers practically congealed her blood. Playing the part of the observer, Taylor had the luxury of forgetting or remembering the brutal incident, but for Remus the mutation would serve as a consistent reminder of trauma and abnormality. He would never truly know security and comfort again.

"I will make sure Sirius and James don't find the entrance to the shack tonight."

"Promise!" Remus pleaded, a bit too loudly.

"I promise." Taylor grabbed his shoulders tenderly. "You need to go now."

Reflexively Remus grabbed her arm and held onto it tightly. "Keep them away from the Whomping Willow. Keep them inside the castle." With great effort, he broke away and stumbled across the grounds at a labored speed.

* * *

The broom handle was rough and splintered from years of Quidditch play. Nothing like the polished, trimmed models Fionn and Taylor had practiced with days earlier. In fact, the Moontrimmer was decades older than its current owner. Unfortunately, Taylor did not have a choice in the matter. When she finally arrived to the Slytherin locker room, only one broomstick was accessible. The brand-new Cleansweeps and Comets were securely locked away in Madam Hooch's cabinet. Conscious of the clock, Taylor could not waste time looking for keys or locating the Flying Instructor. She had to get on the pitch, and the Moontrimmer would have to suffice. _Age doesn't necessarily dictate the speed of a broom, right?_

Taylor's shoes crunched across the crisp Quidditch green. The sun had nearly disappeared, allowing for a brisk drop in temperature. A group of students huddled near the towering goalposts. Taylor weaved her way around a clique of spry second years, careful not to accidentally collide with a stern-looking blond seventh year. She finally found Fionn, who casually waited for further instruction by leaning on his broomstick.

"I didn't miss anything, did I?" Taylor asked.

"A signup sheet was passed around." Fionn replied. "I put your name on it. No worries."

"Thanks." Taylor sighed, relieved that she did not have to announce her tardiness to potential critics. Nervousness abating, the girl studied the crowd curiously. Nearby, Mulciber chuckled darkly and smacked Selwyn in the back of the head with his broom handle.

"Where's the Captain?"

Fionn gestured to the sidelines, where a tall Slytherin girl stood in deep conversation with Regulus. Lengthy jet-black hair contrasted strikingly against flawless alabaster skin. Even her eyes, black like onyx, flattered the girl's round face. The Captain motioned toward the nearby group, which caused Taylor to turn her attention to the ground.

"Alright, alright! Quiet down and line up." The slow reaction-time of her fellow Slytherins snapped the girl into a more aggressive attitude. "I said line up now!"

Following close behind, Regulus chuckled at the group's newfound attentiveness. "Hopefully these sheep listen better in the air, than they do on the ground."

The girl walked up and down the line of candidates, silently evaluating their physical characteristics. "My name is Emma Vanity. I will be your Captain and Keeper this year. If you expect to be a part of this team, you will obey my every command. I will accept nothing less than victory this year. That said, I cannot afford to mollycoddle weak players."

Each word held a measure of severity. Taylor became very conscious of the saliva pooling in her mouth. She worried Emma could hear her swallow, so she waited patiently for the Captain to finish her speech.

"Regulus Black will be continuing as our Seeker this year."

"And I expect—" Regulus began proudly, but Emma cut him off.

"I would also like to introduce you to Maximus Warrington, our beater, who has served on the team for four years. Unfortunately, this will be his last being that he graduates in the spring." A boy with blond curly hair, a thick red beard, and blue eyes held his hand up in an apathetic wave. His thick arm muscles stretched the fabric of his cloak, giving him the appearance of a devoted weightlifter. "Currently, there are four open positions: three Chasers and one Beater. If you had any other expectations, you should leave now." Emma stared at the line intensely, but no one left. She continued, "Anyone who wants to try out for Chaser follow Regulus. Beaters accompany Max to the periphery."

While Mulciber and a brawny boy followed Max to the sidelines, Taylor and Fionn proceeded to center field with Selwyn and three other Slytherins. Regulus picked up his broom and motioned to the approaching group.

"Split into two groups of three. Hurry up now!" His orders oozed ostentation.

Taylor edged closer to her friend and waited patiently for further options. Fionn's reputation as an exceptional flyer outweighed Taylor's unpopularity. Selwyn argued bitterly with Drustan Nott, a well-known third year, in an effort to claim the remaining spot. The brief moment of anarchy and confusion amused Regulus, if only for the fact that the argument allowed him the opportunity to exert his authority.

"Nott, you are with Carrow and Doge. Selwyn, help Wilkes out will you?"

_I can fly better than that twit, are you kidding me? _Taylor straightened her shoulders in annoyance. Begrudgingly, Drustan waved an obscene gesture toward his opponents and joined his assigned team.

"Once Regulus puts the ball into play, the tryouts will then proceed as if this were any normal game!" Emma shouted from several metres away. The Captain tapped a wooden post several times with her wand and muttered an incantation. Thousands of flickering lights blinked into existence along the edges of the spectator bleachers. The lambent brilliance slowed to a solid glow, providing additional light to guard the players against eventide. "I want to see proper passing, avoidance, goal scoring, and assertive behavior from my Chasers. Beaters? Extra points on my charts if you can knock anyone off their broom."

A shrill chirp pierced their ears as Emma blew sharply into a whistle. Instinctively, Taylor kicked off the ground and into the air. Soft chunks of earth fell from her shoes to the shrinking world below. Nine, eleven, fourteen metres— Taylor hovered comfortably next to Fionn and Selwyn, facing the opposing team of Chasers. A surreal feeling enveloped her. A curious tickle excited the girl's stomach at the fact that she was on the field rather than watching from the stands. Regulus mounted his broom, quaffle under arm, and glided effortlessly to the center of the field. He surveyed the candidates, but finally rested an intense gaze on Taylor.

"Make it a good show _lads_." The Seeker smirked.

Mindful of his penetrating stare, Taylor was suddenly very aware of her position: She was the only female player competing. Regulus tossed the quaffle toward the dusky sky and the play began. Fionn and Selwyn rushed passed Taylor, goading her into a swift involuntary forward motion.

Dolos Carrow, a sixth year, was the first to grab hold of the quaffle. He held the ball close to his chest, as if smothering a particularly round infant. Patiently waiting for an error, Fionn flanked the Chaser's left side; Taylor followed similarly to the right. Caught up by cockiness, Dolos prematurely pitched the quaffle at the goalpost. The heavy orb fell short of the target and plummeted toward the ground. Effortlessly, Fionn plucked the quaffle from air just before Drustan could steal the ball and save his team's play. Fionn's possession reversed the movement of the tide, as he sped toward the other posts. He swerved to avoid pursuing Chasers and angry bludgers. Recognizing the growing number of opponents at his heels, Fionn dipped left and crossed the quaffle to Taylor, who caught it with a huff.

_This is much heavier than I remember from practice._ Taylor hastened her broom toward the goal post. _Everything's open, I can't believe how simple this is! _Without warning, Selwyn, having dropped in from above, collided with Taylor. His foot connected with her head violently, sending her physically and mentally spinning. Dazed from the encounter, the Slytherin girl squinted passed the blurs of color and blindly shot the ball. A shrill noise from Emma's whistle echoed across the field. The score was official: 1-0.

"Wake up and pay attention, Selwyn, before I take you off the pitch for wasting my time!" Emma screeched angrily. Taylor, proud and partially surprised, turned around ready for the next play. Selwyn glowered at her, convinced that his embarrassment was somehow her fault. Fionn appeared next to Taylor with a satisfied smile. With a soft laugh, he gestured to his face.

"Nice goal, but the shoe-print-on-the-cheek look does not suit you."

Taylor rolled her eyes and vigorously rubbed the side of her face with a dry sleeve. "Well, if some people were paying attention..." Taking his position near the center of the field, Selwyn pretended not to hear her comment. Regulus tossed the quaffle back into play, spurring on another fierce session. Fionn initially maintained possession, but was quickly overwhelmed by all three Chasers of the opposing team. Acting fast, he tossed the quaffle to Selwyn nearby, who fumbled the heavy spheroid. Like an osprey, Drustan dove for the quaffle and rolled mid-flight to catch it. Taylor hurriedly tried to stop the third year by blocking his shot, but his aggressive pitch whizzed passed the girl and through the goal.

As the plays grew longer and more aggressive, the quaffle became a blur between the participants. Fionn and Taylor managed to volley the quaffle across the pitch for some time, flying along the lateral edge of field. Fionn scored several goals, bringing his team into the lead once again. Drustan, however, was not a passive opponent. While his teammates bumped into one another or fumbled under pressure, Drustan was a patient player with an agile hand. When Max hit Maedóc Doge with a bludger, Drustan collected the quaffle Maedóc dropped and finished the sweep with a goal that tied the score: 7-7.

Much to Drustan's disappointment, the momentary deadlock did not last. Fionn, taking advantage of his opponents' growing exhaustion, acquired the quaffle and crossed it to Taylor. She scored and the reverberation of Emma's whistle generated a wave of excitability within the Slytherin girl. Her toothy grin immediately transitioned into a shocked gasp, as a pain exploded from her shoulder. A force knocked Taylor into an unbreakable spiral of chaos. She clutched the handle of the broom and closed her eyes tightly hoping for the best. When the world finally stopped spinning, Taylor bit her lip and pressed a hand against her shoulder.

Somewhere in the slow spiraling sky above, Mulciber's distant voice taunted, "Just fall off the broom already! Don't give me a reason to hit you harder!" Emma's whistle blew to signal a foul, but she did not offer words of warning to the sadistic young boy. The more aggressive Mulciber played, the more appealing he seemed for the Beater position. Squinting past an involuntary glimmer of tears, Taylor zipped back into the skirmish.

"Are you alright?" Fionn asked her. Taylor nodded and stared at Mulciber intently. _I'll be damned if you are going to get the satisfaction of knocking me off my broom. _

With newfound inspiration and an aching shoulder blade, Taylor managed to intercept the quaffle on the initial toss. Unable to carry the weight of the ball for too long, she hurriedly shifted it to Fionn, who outpaced the other players and scored uninterrupted. The two teams of Chasers continued the game, avoiding the occasional bludger blow. Scapula blazing with a raw heat, Taylor rushed forward with the quaffle, free to score another goal. An unexpected force winded her from the back, knocking any remaining air from her lungs. Breathless, Taylor's effort to shoot the quaffle fell short. Fionn barely caught the ball on the tips of his fingers, spun around in a wide blind throw which miraculously scored. Taylor wheezed heavily, clutching the shaft of the broom for support. Emma blew her whistle to signal the goal, then blew several short trills to indicate the end of the match. With a throbbing shoulder and tender back, Taylor landed two feet on the ground, all too happy to be on solid earth again. As Fionn landed beside her, Taylor caught a glimpse of Mulciber's frustrated scowl which boosted her confidence. _It feels good to know I got under your skin, git. _

"She just isn't _Slytherin _material, Vanity. Selwyn is a much better team player." Taylor heard Regulus whisper to Emma. Noticing the girl approach, the Captain began tapping the wooden post with her wand. The magical glow dissipated along with Taylor's excitement.

"I'll consider your opinion, Regulus."

Taylor's heart sank completely, knowing the extent of Regulus's influence on all matters Slytherin. _I really dislike the Black family. _

"Excellent job candidates. I will have an official list posted to the Common Room board tomorrow morning."

Forcing a polite smile, Emma turned on her heel and departed with Regulus close behind. The gathering of Slytherins gradually dispersed into their respective circles. Fionn and Taylor silently shuffled their way to the communal lockers, where they returned their brooms to storage. Pain pulsed through Taylor's body indiscriminately. The resonating aches in her lower vertebrae and shoulder were worsened by the uniform throb emanating from her joints, muscles, ligaments and tendons.

"You look exhausted." Fionn observed.

"Just a bit. Aren't you?"

"Not really. Actually, I feel rather invigorated."

A small laugh escaped passed Taylor's lips. "Easy enough for you to say, you didn't get pummeled for nearly an hour."

"What can I say? The other Slytherins obviously enjoy playing with you more." The boy fixed the collar of his cloak and held open the locker room door for Taylor. "If you are hurting, perhaps you should visit Madam Pomfrey. I am sure the Hospital Wing is stocked with all sorts of magical compresses. Or at the very least, treat yourself to an early night's sleep."

"I'll tough it out." Upon stepping outside, the crisp night air pinkened the girl's cheeks. In the distance, a colossal pearl scaled the darkened sky. A faraway howl pierced the stillness. _No early sleep for me tonight though. I need to find James and Sirius before they cause any trouble for Remus. Where the hell could they be?_

* * *

The Great Hall bustled with the chatter and clatter of excited young students. Extended weekend hours, along with a drop in temperature, had resulted in an overabundance of pupils seeking warm beverages. Excusing herself politely from Fionn's company, Taylor entered the dining hall to fulfill her promise to Remus and scout for Sirius and James. Mulled cider was the cover story, but the main objective was espionage. Much to her satisfaction, she spotted Sirius casually blending in between several other crimson clad students. James and Peter sat contentedly across from their companion. Bursting out into laughter, Sirius threw back his head and pounded the table with his fist. _This would be easier if I could get an ear in._ A few Gryffindors to the right, Taylor noticed Lily sitting with Mary and not to spill her mug of cider, the Slytherin weaved a way to the Gryffindor table and sat next to Lily. Taylor's sudden arrival prompted the conversation between Lucretia and Mary to fall silent. The girls were unaccustomed to playing host to a Slytherin visitor. In contrast, Lily's smile broadened with excitement.

"Am I dreaming? Am I really sitting with Taylor outside of class?" Lily taunted gleefully.

"If you weren't _resting _all the time, then maybe we'd have more fun." Taylor retorted sarcastically. "In all seriousness though, how are you feeling?" Inconspicuously, the young girl leaned in to refill her cup with steaming, spicy liquid. Half-listening to Lily, Taylor strained to overhear the nearby boys.

"So I told him, your mum's so ugly that a dementor won't even kiss her!" James barked loudly, causing Sirius to howl with laughter.

"━It comes and goes. I can't seem to kick the sore throat, but I can't complain. I have my energy and appetite back. Why do you look all roughed up?"

Taylor shook her head, bringing her full attention back to Lily. "Just got back from Quidditch tryouts."

"Did you make the team?" Mary asked, venturing her way into the conversation.

"I'll find out tomorrow." Taylor rubbed her hands together and reached for a Cornish pasty. "Regulus seems to have a say in who's chosen. I'm not sure that my presence on the team meets his expectations."

"Regulus Black can stuff it! For what it's worth, I hope you make the team. It would be a good change if more ladies joined the house teams." Lucretia grunted.

The support eased the physical aches and pains plaguing Taylor's body. _Sometimes, I think I am in the wrong house. _Without warning, Sirius fell from his seat to the flagstone floor cackling like a deranged ghoul. James leapt from the bench, eyes shut tight, a hand cradling the stitch forming in his side. Tears poured down Peter's red face, as he too laughed at the highest volume. _Nevermind_. The surrounding Gryffindors and even a few Ravenclaws paused to watch the raucous.

"James! No! Stop! I can't━ It's too━ It's too much!" Sirius wheezed.

"I don't know which of the Black brothers is worse." Lily snorted. "The corrupt quiet one or the loud obnoxious buffoon."

The stern look on Professor McGonagall's face prompted Sirius to hurriedly wipe away the stray tears from his cheeks and clamber to his feet. "McGonagall's getting cheesed off. I think that's our cue to leave, eh? Seriously though, you _have _to tell this story again when Remus gets back."

A smirk crossed James's face; a silent promise to fulfill his friend's request at a later date. The boys proceeded toward the massive oak doors leaving Taylor with a sudden urgency. If they completely disappeared from sight, she would lose track of them.

"Good riddance━" Lily began.

"I have to go." Taylor abruptly jumped from the bench knocking over a tray of pastel tinted cookies, which scattered across the table.

"Is everything alright?" Lily asked alarmed, sweeping the mess into a small pile with a fluid arm motion.

"Sorry! Sorry, I just… I forgot there was something I needed to do before bed. I'll catch you all later." Without a second glance, Taylor skittered out of the Great Hall. Amicable farewells and earnest goodnights drifted behind her, but faded when she entered the Entrance Hall. Echoes of the boys' laughter rumbled down the stairways. Guided by the noise, the Slytherin girl climbed the Grand Staircase blindly until she finally caught sight of the troublemakers near the fourth floor. The gradual ascent up nearly three more flights winded Taylor to a point of breathlessness. _I have never been thankful for the dungeons before._

Once on the seventh floor, the Gryffindor boys effortlessly meandered the labyrinthine hallways. With a burst of energy, James broke into a headlong run. The dark haired boy stopped short of colliding into a portrait of a lounging plump woman dressed in fuchsia pink.

"Ah, come on sugarplum! You are supposed to open up wide when you see me running like that!" James pouted playfully.

"No password. No entrance." The Fat Lady chided, though James's flirtatious advances flushed her face.

Sirius rolled his eyes and gently shouldered James out of the way. "_Snickersnee_."

"Very good. Come in, come in."

The portrait swung to the side, revealing a torch lit tunnel to the Gryffindor Tower. Sirius, James, and Peter disappeared through the passage leaving Taylor restlessly alone. _Now what? I can't follow them in there, I'd stick out like a sore thumb. _Instead, the small girl quickly wriggled herself into a hidden alcove behind a dusty curio cabinet. Squeezing into the confined space was uncomfortable, but the vantage allowed Taylor to watch the portrait hole undetected. As time marched on toward curfew, several groups of Gryffindors passed the cabinet, unaware of the spectator's presence. Most of the passersby were unfamiliar. The only recognizable faces appeared as suddenly as they vanished. Lily wearily plodded by with Mary and Lucretia, who supported her by the elbows.

Many entered, but not a single soul exited; eventually, the traffic ceased altogether. Hours of stillness blended into unremitting boredom. Taylor fiddled with her wand to stay awake. Muttering gibberish caused periwinkle sparks to flare from the tip of her wand. When the magical glint no longer amused her, Taylor began to sift through her thoughts. _If I don't make the Quidditch team, will I ever get a chance to fly again? Perhaps I am Icarus. I flew too close to the sun in an attempt to enjoy my life at Hogwarts. I shouldn't complain. Nothing compares to the stress Remus must have. Then again, he could be exaggerating about Sirius and James. What am I even doing here? Breaking curfew. Losing sleep. These guys aren't_━ the portrait hole creaked opened. Taylor squinted through the darkness. The Fat Lady snoozed noiselessly in her frame as the entrance closed mysteriously. Despite the motion, the corridor appeared empty. An unusual iridescence glided across the floor near the cabinet.

"What the hell is that?" Taylor mumbled beneath her breath in amazement.

A muffled, inaudible whisper startled the Slytherin; Sirius was nearby, but the girl could not seem to make out his figure. As the phenomenon drifted around the corner, Taylor emerged from her hiding spot and cautiously followed it. _Am I dreaming or just crazy? _The flight down to the fifth floor was difficult with the added challenge of avoiding prefects. Taylor kept crouched low and used bookshelves, benches, and trophy cases to obscure her advances. She kept pace with the ethereal specter and felt relieved when it practically slowed to a halt. To her surprise, Sirius's shadowy form materialized amid the torchlight glow. Careful not to alarm her prey, Taylor hid behind a suit of armor.

"Let's get moving. I don't want to attract any unwanted attention."

James and Peter suddenly appeared from beneath the ghostly iridescence. _What sort of magic is that? _Stepping on her tiptoes, Taylor noticed James folding a delicate spread of fabric over his arm. The fiber twinkled magnificently before paling into a dim afterglow. Taylor directed her sights back to Sirius, who tapped a rolled up sheet of parchment at the base of Gregory the Smarmy's statue.

"Peter, climb up there and give old Smarmy's chin a tickle, will you? Once we get this passage open, we can sneak right out the castle to the grounds." Sirius put the scroll of paper in his cloak and ran a hand through his hair. "Much more privacy."

"Sweet deal." James smirked.

"It's kind of high." Peter observed meekly. Taylor's eyes widened in panic, while Peter shifted nervously toward the lumbering twenty metre high statue. Offering him a boost, James helped the clumsy boy gain the confidence he needed to brave the climb. Scanning the area, Taylor searched for a way to frighten the boys off or attract a nearby adult. _Oh no, no, no! What do I do? What do I do?_ The Slytherin drew her wand and instinctually blasted a decorative urn off its pedestal. Shards of ceramic scattered across the flagstone floor. The noise and fragments caused James and Sirius to plunge to the ground, leaving Peter dangling from Smarmy's neck.

"What the bloody fuck was that?!" James exclaimed.

"Help! I'm slipping!" Peter whined, gripping the stone tighter. Gregory the Smarmy's sculpted face began to contort and expand, as if his head were made of rubber. The distortion alarmed Peter, who was the first to notice. "Someone get me off of this thing!"

From Gregory the Smarmy's forehead emerged a bulbous pimple, which grew until it burst forth a spectral little man with dark eyes, a wide mouth, and a pointed hat. The ghostlike man swooped down toward Sirius and James, creating a gust of air which knocked down several suits of armor.

"Students out of bed? Out of bed and waking up the whole castle with their blasts and bangs? I'll show you bangs!" The little man blew a raspberry and a nearby glass display case shattered.

"Settle down, Peeves. We aren't here for any trouble." Sirius tried to calm the little spirit of chaos down, but Peeves only cackled with gumption.

"Peter Peter over-eater! Afraid of heights, but flew a meter!" Peeves grabbed Peter by the feet, yanked him free of Gregory's neck, and carried him down the corridor. "I put him in a holding cell! And there I kept him very well!" Peter yelped and struggled against Peeves, who took him up a flight of stairs.

"Let me go! James! Sirius!"

Without a second to spare, Sirius and James rushed down the corridor after their kidnapped friend. Taylor cautiously stepped out from her hiding space. _Well that worked out splendidly. I better keep tailing them though, just to be sure they don't make it onto the grounds._ Peeve's interference had provided Taylor with the vital element of time.

Glancing both left and right, Taylor surveyed the corridor for prefects before she started after the fading disturbance. A soft crunch under her shoe, however, caused her to pause halfway down the hall. Curious, Taylor took a step back and discovered a rolled up piece of parchment on the floor. _Sirius must have dropped it during the Peeves attack._ Taylor picked up the document, unrolled it gingerly, and examined it closely. Straight edged lines depicted the beginnings of a masterful map. Diagrams of secret tunnels. Sketches of statues. Scribbled passwords. A short breath caught in Taylor's chest. _Professor Greer's map! _

Fingering the edges, Taylor remembered the long hours she spent mapping the tunnels beneath the school during detention of last year. With every tap of her wand, the ink would blossom upon the paper in incomplete lines tracing the narrow, subterranean walls around her. Her heartbeat quickened as she recalled the leathery corpse locked up beneath the much had been added in the margins, there was no doubt in her mind that her hands held Professor Damien Greer's map.

"I can't believe he stole this." Taylor whispered to herself. _I need to get back on track. I can look this over later._ Quickly, the girl folded the map into quarters and tucked it deep into her cloak. Careful to avoid detection, she followed the distant shrieks and cackles.

* * *

For the remainder of the night, Taylor watched Sirius and James struggle to rescue Peter. Peeves, who disappeared shortly after the hostage situation, locked the rotund little Gryffindor inside an abandoned sarcophagus. Early morning rays of titian illuminated the castle's shadowy corners. As the sun began to rise above the Forbidden Forest, Taylor left the boys to their continued swear words and complaints. The daylight meant Remus was safely human, thereby freeing his sister of any further obligations._ I can finally go to sleep._ Mentally sluggish and physically drained, Taylor slowly descended the staircase toward the dungeons. As she entered the Common Room, the Slytherin girl wondered sportively if Sirius and James had finally liberated their trapped companion. _I almost feel bad for them. _Lost in contemplation, Taylor nearly collided with Emma Vanity.

"Are you _just _getting in?" Emma pried suspiciously. The Captain clutched several scraps of useless tryout posters.

"Oh no, no!" Taylor lied. "I just went out early to catch the sunrise."

Sizing her up from head to toe, Emma stared at the second year's dirty shoulders and disheveled hair. She did not look convinced, but remained silent. Emma reached up, plastered a flyer to the wall, and smoothed out the notice gently. Taylor rubbed her eyes and blinked through her exhaustion to read the announcement.

Slytherin Quidditch Team  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chasers: _Fionn Wilkes (2nd year), Taylor Lupin (2nd year), Drustan Nott (3rd year)_

Beaters: _Balthasar Mulciber (3rd year), Maximus Warrington (7th year)_

Keeper: _Emma Vanity (4th year)_

Seeker:_ Regulus Black (3rd year)  
_

_Did I read that right? I made it onto the team?! _Taylor leaned in closer to read the list once more.

"Congratulations." Emma complimented.

"Thank you." Taylor replied stunned. "I am honored."

Emma crumpled the old flyers into a ball and side-eyed her new teammate. "You have a lot of talent on the pitch. It'll also be refreshing to have another girl on the team. All that aside, I was warned that you don't always play well with the other Slytherins. So let me be clear. I will have harmony on my team. I won't tolerate dissension. Don't make me regret my decision."

"I won't let you down." Taylor promised earnestly.

For a moment, Emma relaxed her tough posture and smiled. "I look forward to seeing you at practice next Saturday then."

_Me too. _With a final nod, Emma nodded and exited the Common Room to begin her day. Grinning, Taylor waddled to the depths of the dormitory and jumped into her bed fully clothed. The cool sheets pressed against her face, the Slytherin girl fell asleep trying to kick off her shoes.

* * *

Author's Note:

Hello all! I apologize for the very late update. Honestly, I cannot believe it has taken me so long to post! At the moment, I am very busy working on my Masters... which unfortunately takes up a huge portion of my time. I still love writing my FanFic and know where I want to take it. I will continue to write more, though not as regularly. Sorry! That said, thank you for your follows and support. Please keep reading reviewing, I love hearing from you all!

Best regards,

XxxChansalarxxX


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